


A Classic Love Story

by paperficwriter



Category: Lucifer (Comic)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, First Time, Origin Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-15 01:53:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 26,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11220813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperficwriter/pseuds/paperficwriter
Summary: An alternate universe in which Lucifer has to deal with his son's love and, ultimately, finds his own.





	1. Awakening

Awakening

Returning to Hell always made Lucifer feel like an estranged son coming home after a long time away. His emotions always muddied themselves in his head, in his heart. After all, it was his kingdom, his home for centuries upon centuries, long before centuries were even measured as such. Time itself was a different sort of beast, here; compared to being on Earth and having the simple pleasure of a sun and a moon, clocks and watches and conveniences, the eternity of the damned space was chaos, ever changing upon a landscape dotted with rocky chambers, dark holes, and an endless sea of bodies.

Bodies, alive but rotting. Bodies, crawling to some illusionary goal that they would never reach. Bodies of humans and angels, their wings cleaved off into bloody, bony stumps, and even some demons, horns torn away at the roots and tails knotted like whips, dragging behind them. 

He recalled a time when he looked out upon his realm and saw nothing. A short time, when he had thought that he could treat the land like a house he was moving out of, when he cast out all the creatures and souls alike, as if they were no more than detritus he had tired of watching, and then locked the doors and abandoned it for Earth. Earth, a balm for his boredom. A new start.

But all things seemed to have different plans. After all, here he was again, and it was as if he had never left.

And now...things were changing again. 

Lucifer became aware of the words being spoken behind him and finally returned his attention to the ceremony happening only yards away. He was standing in the Red Citadel, the center of Hell, the site of his throne. It had changed so much, almost as if it was reforming to accommodate a new era. The new era of its new ruler.

Lucifer’s son, Takehiko, stood upon the back of a high demon that Lucifer did not recognize - perhaps hadn’t cared enough to remember - who knelt on the ground, prostrate. From a distance, he could see parts of himself in the young man: his cut, angular jaw, the set of his eyes (although Takehiko’s were a rich brown, almond-shaped), even his lips seemed similar to his own. But where Lucifer’s hair was a bright golden blond, Takehiko had inherited the dark black, neatly cut locks of his mother, Izanami-no-Mikoto. 

It never ceased to amuse Lucifer how he had also inherited his angelic wings, though Takehiko’s were darker than moonless midnight. In fact, it gave him no end of delight imagining the hate that his former lover harbored at that fact, when what had brought them together was the death of her sons for the return of Lucifer’s own wings. 

Takehiko turned, giving Lucifer a view of his crimson armor shining in the red light that cast itself around the gathering of hundreds, lords and ladies and all that could be between. The armor was, Lucifer thought, a garish replication of his own which he wore now, made of black segmented pieces that were light to him but would have crushed a normal man, with an appearance like cut leather. Creatures of all realms and realities, some that perhaps may have even come to Ex Lux of the occasion, watched as the young man raised his arms, his lips moving, words being spoken to nothing.

No, not nothing. Lucifer knew that Takehiko was requesting that Hell itself accept him as its new ruler. As was his birthright (although Lucifer rolled his eyes at that).

*Let him have it and be done with this.*

As if in response to his own intent, the congregation murmured as a black crown appeared on Takehiko’s head, shining like oil, molding itself to his skull. Its sharpness made it look more like a helmet to be worn into battle than an ornament for a king, but...this was more than simply overseeing a domain. It meant Takehiko would be the figurehead to the War on Heaven, the name on the lips of his foolish followers who would throw themselves on the Most High for him. 

The thought of *that* carnage was what prompted Lucifer to clap alongside the grim, ghastly and glorious huddled around them, who cheered for their shiny new Lord of the Damned.

Once the ceremony was over, the event was taken inside of the great hall, where there was drinks and food - both living and cooked - for all the assembled. Lucifer made his way to what seemed to be serving as the bar, but when he was offered a goblet of blood, he stalked away without another word and summoned Pruflas to his side. The man with the head of a cat atop a human body appeared with a scent that made Lucifer think of Callery pear blossoms: fragrant at first but immediately rotten and nauseating. It had been some time since he had summoned one of his own from Earth to Hell, and he couldn’t help his amusement watching the confusion on the large orange tabby face, bright eyes darting, lips pulled back with a very feline hiss.

“Easy, Pruflas,” Lucifer said, squeezing his arm, then straightening the sleeve of his tuxedo. Even though Lucifer had told him time and again that he could dress more casually while working at Ex Lux, he had it set in his mind that this was the most appropriate way to carry himself as a butler. “I summoned you here. It’s just Hell. Nothing to get bristly about.”

The tension eased from his face, his ears righting themselves from where they had laid back on his head. “Is there something I can do to be of assistance, my Lord?”

“I would be more than pleased if you could just run interference for me. Keep my wine glass full, and the masses who wish to engage me occupied. I’m sure that is something that you can handle, yes?”

“Of course,” Pruflas replied, straightening his lapels as if they had somehow become mussed in his rematerialization. 

Lucifer was beyond grateful once he had returned with a blood-free glass of what seemed to be Merlot, and he sipped it, moving to lean against one of the great crimson columns that seemed to rise into eternity above them. His wings moved back away from his body, straightening out behind him. It made him feel smaller, like somehow he could blend in, like an ornament to the occasion rather than an active participant.

Meanwhile, the post-ceremony party became lively with music and chatter. Demons danced, their bodies entwining in ways that humans would have found more puerile or even vulgar than their own. A hydra woman stared at her partner with what seemed like a hundred eyes, tentacles wrapping affectionately around a vampiress who was much more focused on her countless necks. There was no doubt that many of these creatures would be taking others home with them. If they even got that far.

And then, there he was. Mr. Big Shot himself. Takehiko made his rounds through the crowd like the perfect politician, all smiles and handshakes, gracious bows and gestures and ‘you honor me with your presence.’ Sugarcube words that dissolved within seconds. 

But then...his face changed, narrow eyes widening slightly. Lucifer followed the track of his gaze and quickly located the object of his interest. A thing of beauty. A goddess. And not one of hyperbole, but the *real deal,* deific energy radiating off her like cold around ice. One of the Norse creatures, Lucifer suspected, and even he had to give himself a moment to take her in: gorgeous, youthful face, framed by long white hair. Full lips. Bright blue eyes that seemed to welcome all around her. She was such a slight thing that the golden armor that accented her ivory gown seemed like it could be shaken off without even an effort. 

He might have described her as flawless - for whatever that was worth, as perfection was the master of boredom, in Lucifer’s eyes - if not for the corpse-like properties of half her body. It was like she had been cut neatly in two at the neck and then crafted by two different artisans: her right side was exposed tissue, shining like it was wet with blood, touched by decay and rot except where glimpses of bone showed through or where she was mostly covered by her garments. Her left was like the whole of her face, an exquisite example of unsullied loveliness. 

Lucifer couldn’t help smirking. At least he couldn’t fault the boy’s taste. 

Takehiko approached and despite now wearing a crown, his face reminded Lucifer of a lovestruck teenager. The goddess immediately noticed, and with the most endearingly shy smile, dropped into a curtsy. Takehiko bowed at his waist, stiff with his own nerves, and offered his hand.

“I thank you for coming, my Lady. May I ask your name, that I may address you with more grace?”

Lucifer made a face into his wine glass. But despite his own disgust at the melodrama, it made the girl laugh softly, enamored, as she placed her right hand in his, so red that it seemed to disappear in the crimson of his gauntlet. “You may. I am Hela, Queen of Niflheim, and it is my pleasure to meet you.”

Takehiko raised the hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles, his smile wide and bright. Ugh. “Believe me, Your Grace, the pleasure is all mine. Would you do me the honor of joining me for a dance?”

Several of the creatures surrounding the two seemed to quiet their conversations, watching with great gossipy interest at the moment unfolding. Lucifer was about to give up on the scene becoming actually interesting when suddenly, the crowd parted, and a dark figure approached the two. A demoness, Lucifer noted, from the small batlike wings that seemed to flutter with agitation around her. She was bedecked in a black gown, and next to the shining goddess, she was like an obsidian dagger, and Lucifer imagined that even her eyes were sharp, though he could not see them beyond the veil covering her face.

“Come, daughter,” she said, voice icy. There was nothing of respectful regard for Takehiko - in fact, she seemed to ignore him entirely, stepping between them and breaking the contact of their hands. “It grows late.”

Hela’s face fell, but she made no move to defy her, instead mumbling, “Yes, Mother.” And to Takehiko, “Please excuse me.” And like light pursuing a shadow, she was gone. 

Lucifer laughed to himself, shaking his head as Takehiko stood rooted to the spot, his jaw tight and his eyes flooded with disappointment. His wings quivered with the force of his hidden rage of being so publicly disrespected. The crowd dispersed, quietly murmuring, and Lucifer raised his glass, completely convinced that this had been quite worth it.

Long live the king.

\---

From the corner table, Lucifer could see over the entirety of Ex Lux. It was a slow night, early, and he took a drag from his cigarette as he regarded the mix of guests who had taken up spaces here and there throughout the club. Lazily exhaling, he watched the smoke drift through the air, lingering in tendrils, and he broke the cloud with one single ring. Amelio had chosen something of a light jazz for the evening, and no one danced.

Although it wasn’t good for business having too many of these kinds of evenings, Lucifer did enjoy the peace from time to time. It gave him the opportunity to consider things, to wonder what was coming, to even reminisce on things that had been. It afforded him the chance to be present, to notice details that may have otherwise escaped him.

He took another puff from the cigarette, this time letting the smoke float out of his nose, obscuring his vision. Yes, time here was so different from that in Hell. It had been several weeks since Takehiko’s crowning, and it both felt like it was yesterday but then also a very long time ago.

Just as Lucifer’s glass of scotch was getting lower, a bottle came into view of his peripheral vision, topping it off.

“Sir,” Amelio said, voice low, so close to his ear that he could hear the low, strange quality of the words escaping his mandibles. The fly-headed servant gave him a respectful nod, and Lucifer tipped his cup to him.

“Amelio,” he acknowledged, swirling the gold-brown liquid in his hand, letting it warm and breathe. “You only fill my glass on a slow night when you think I will be needing the alcohol to smooth an edge.”

Amelio was silent at first, caught like a...well, that would have been too easy to say. “I’ve come to request your presence on behalf of a royal guest,” he said at last.

“I take it you explained that I was quite occupied with club business, of course. Gave my sincerest regards?” He raised the cigarette, gesturing at his drink with it. “These certainly aren’t going to ingest themselves, you know.”

“Believe me, I am quite aware.”

Lucifer gave him a long look and sighed, brows drawn in. “But it seems this is a stubborn creature refusing to take a polite dismissal as being sufficient.”

“No, sir.” Amelio’s chest seemed to twitch with a barely concealed laugh. “He takes it from his father.”

Who...ah, now it became clear, and Lucifer scowled, rising to his feet. “You are very, very fortunate I like you so much, Amelio. You have a poor choice of humor.”

Amelio took a step back so Lucifer could walk past him, heading to the private booth where he always met with those who either were too stupid to accept his formalities as what they were or who Lucifer actually wanted to have an audience with (something that happened once in several blue moons). As he took a spot on the auburn leather seat across from Takehiko - who was wearing a suit similar to his own, a three piece with a tie (red, matching his armor), his black hair slicked back from his face - the air around them seemed denser. Amelio closed the curtains with a slowness that seemed to say, ‘Good luck.’

“Father,” Takehiko said in his smooth accent, sounding in many ways more like his mother than Lucifer himself.

“Takehiko. Or should I be saying, ‘Takehiko-sama’?” He smirked at his own clever quip, but Takehiko only pressed his lips and shook his head.

“You know that is not necessary. Regardless. I thank you for taking the time out of your busy schedule to meet with me. I know how you keep yourself quite occupied among the living. I can’t say I understand, with the power you possess, why you waste it on some...club.”

“Aren’t we both fortunate then that I don’t answer to you nor do I owe you any sort of explanation...Your Grace.”

“Regardless,” he repeated, staring disdainfully at his glass, “I am grateful for your attention.” Takehiko did not have a drink of his own, and courtesy did dictate Lucifer should extend the offer, but...well, now he was irritated and frankly couldn’t be bothered.

Lucifer practically gulped down a large pull of liquor, licking the corner of his mouth. “You realize you didn’t exactly give me much of a choice. Be that as it may, though...what brings the newly crowned King of Hell to my little slice of Los Angeles? Having problems navigating around the Citadel? That tripped me up for a few years. It’s like it has a mind of its own…”

Takehiko’s gaze in no way softened at his humor. “I wish to court the goddess Hela. I have approached her numerous times since the crowning, and every time, she denies me.”

“So you came here for a shoulder to cry on because you’re unpopular with the ladies? You must get that from the other side of the family…”

“Hela *would* accept my affections,” he replied hotly, “if not for her meddlesome mother. Mazikeen is one of the Illim, and she refuses to allow Hela to ‘consort’ with angels.”

Lucifer tried not to laugh but still could not completely restrain an amused chuckle. “Lilith’s children are quite distrusting of our kind to an annoying degree, yes. But I fail to see why I should care about your little lovers quarrel.”

Despite his obvious anger, Takehiko straightened and placed his hands together on the tabletop between them, staring at the lacquered grain of the wood. “I’m sure you can understand that the realms of the dead need to remain on fairly good terms with one another, especially in the face of coming conflicts.”

That was something Lucifer could not deny. He imagined it could work out poorly for all of them - Takehiko and himself, by proxy - if Hela ended up siding with the forces of Heaven rather than Hell, should the war come to a head. And since he and his son had made a truce on the shaky grounds that they would at least be allies in this situation, he couldn’t just throw Takehiko out into the muggy California night by the roots of his wings, as much as he would like to.

“So what, then, are you asking me for?” Lucifer asked, bitterness hanging on every word. “To have her killed? Abandoned to oblivion? These are all things you could ask of your followers, you know.”

“No!” Takehiko exclaimed, “I want her mother alive and well. I...I favor Hela. She means more to me than anyone - even you - and I want her happy.”

“Yet you also want her *yours.*”

Takehiko nodded once. “But I wish for her to choose me. Not under coercion.”

How thoroughly dull. “What, then?”

“Mazikeen has her own property in Europe, secluded away. I only ask that you go and present my case to her. Vouch for me that she may allow me to approach her daughter and for her to come to me rather than refusing because of her mother’s prejudice. Money is no issue. I can arrange --”

Lucifer’s loud sigh interrupted him, and his eyes narrowed as Lucifer moved to stand. “Keep your money, Takehiko. I have plenty. I will not be putting myself in any sort of debt. I leave in the morning. I take it that is all?”

Takehiko grinned, standing as well and taking his father’s hand in a tight grip. “Thank you, O-Tousan. I am beyond grateful.” 

Lucifer shook him off with a grunt. He shouldn’t thank him yet. There was still work to do.

\--- 

Lucifer was frankly taken aback at how easy it had been to track down the location of Mazikeen’s home. He had thought that he would need to use his mortal network of hunters and global hitmen to find out where she could be hiding, but in fact...all it had taken was a bit of scrying. He was told that the demoness held some sort of tie - by blood or by bond or by broken vow, it was not known - to one of the old gods of the north, and she had secluded herself away in the forest of Tivenden in Sweden. 

He smirked to himself as he read about the location while on the long flight in his private jet. The woods had been a hiding place for outlaws but had otherwise been uninhabited. People had clearly been there in the past, though, leaving behind sigils and sites of worship. It was the stuff of fairytales and legend, but it had little wildlife, and he couldn’t help finding it both a very suitable place for a demon but also a very strange place for a woman.

Once arrangements had been made at a private home for his stay and Lucifer had magicked away his wings from the sight of any mortals, he immediately headed into the forest. At first, he stuck to the trails, making his way around the massive lakes, taking in the sight of springtime birds. He passed many people, tourists looking to enjoy the view of untouched Scandinavian flora and fauna, and it was only when he knew he was alone that he took a small trinket out of his pocket.

To anyone looking, it would have just seemed like a bloodstone suspended on a worn, gold chain, but in Lucifer’s hand, it was as invaluable as any compass or GPS. He held it out, waiting for it to stop spinning, and then turned until it began to lazily swing, leading beyond a ledge of boulders. Carefully, he climbed down, grateful that Pruflas had insisted on purchasing good boots and wilderness clothing for him (“I do not require these things, you realize,” he had pointed out, but Pruflas had insisted, explaining that he never knew what he would need to do and how well he would have to blend in). The tall trees thinned in number until he came to a clearing.

The scene was almost unnervingly idyllic: a bubbling brook cutting through grass that was perfectly trim around a garden of herbs and vegetables. The cottage in the center looked homey, comfortable, and if it weren’t in the center of a park, Lucifer may have thought he had walked into the pages of some pastoral text. On her knees, Mazikeen was humming a song as she snipped pieces of dill, mint and thyme, her wings opening and closing slowly, like a butterfly on a flower. She had a cloak over a simple dress, and her dark hair moved gently in the breeze.

No sooner had he stepped into the clearing that Mazikeen whipped around to look at him, gasping sharply in surprise. There was something to her face that gave Lucifer pause, a darkness that claimed half of it, but he didn’t get a chance to see it. She grabbed the basket, threw the cloak over her head and ran up the two steps into the house before closing and locking the front door. 

Like a frightened bird, Lucifer thought, and he walked confidently up to follow her. He got to the base of the stairs before suddenly it was as if he had strode directly into an electric fence. It wasn’t strong enough for him to cry out - it would have taken much more than that - but it made his teeth itch and his muscles briefly spasm, a twitch that left him shaking his head.

On the stairs were scorched signs in a language he did not recognize. Old and dead and unused in any common tongue, but still effective. A warding spell. 

“Excuse me,” he said loudly. “I seem to be unable to knock on your door, and I wish to speak with you.”

Silence.

“Clearly you have nothing to fear from me if I cannot even approach you. But you should know, I am quite stubborn and very good at waiting. And I can be *quite* loud, if I wish to be.”

Something moved at the window. Inside, the drapes were pulled back, and once the pane slid up, he could see her in much the way she had been at the celebration, a silky veil obscuring her face. “What do you want? Why are you here?” she asked.

“Do you know who I am, Mazikeen?”

“No, nor do I wish to. I can see what you are, and that is sufficient for me to know that I would like you to leave. Please.”

“That isn’t very kind. After I came all this way to see you. Many people would pay for an audience with Lucifer Morningstar, the now former King of Hell.”

Although he couldn’t see her expression, the slight recoil in her shoulders was all he needed to know that she recognized who he was now. “Why are you here, my Lord?”

“Lucifer will do.”

“I would rather not grow familiar.”

“What’s the matter with being familiar? It’s actually, in fact, the reason I’m here.” Mazikeen tipped her head curiously, and he continued, “My son, Takehiko, wishes to court your daughter, Hela, and it seems that you disapprove.”

“Did you waste an entire journey across land and sea to state the obvious?” she asked, scornfully. “I don’t see how there is anything to discuss about this matter.”

Lucifer dug his hands into the pockets of his long coat, trying to remain patient. “My son holds quite a powerful position. I would think that you would support such a merger between our families.”

“And you would be incorrect.” She moved so she was sitting on the edge of the window, her palms pressed into her lap, though one she conscientiously covered with the fold of her cloak, smoothing the fabric almost obsessively. “I’m sorry you came all this way, but --”

“Why are you apologizing? You were hidden, and I tracked you down.”

A long, trying breath made her veil shiver. “And you have proven my stance on this. Being what I am, my Lord, I...do not trust your kind.”

“Handsome men who approach beautiful women, seeking their attention?”

At that comment, she laughed, but it was a bitter, humorless sound. “Perhaps that as well. But...I was raised to keep a safe distance from angels. Even fallen ones. You bring wrath and misfortune with you where you go. If not directly, then by those who would pursue you.”

“Have you been wronged by such a creature?” he asked, making a sweeping gesture at the cottage, the wards that kept him from entering it, even the area around them that had clearly been obfuscated from any passersby. “Is that why you hide yourself away?”

“No, though those are for my protection from one such as you. It was the last gift of my former lover, Loki of Asgard.”

Loki. The Trickster god. Well, at least he knew now that she wasn’t above and beyond poor taste in men herself…

“Go home, Lord Morningstar,” she said finally. “As Loki has protected me, so shall I protect our daughter. Tell your son to find another to court, as he’ll find no favor with Hela. And should he try to force himself upon her, I think you know the tales of the wars her family members have waged in centuries past.”

“But I --”

The window slid closed, and the drapes drawn on the other side were a clear indication that any further arguments would be in vain. For the first time in quite a while, Lucifer stood dumbstruck. Nobody had dared to defy him to such an extent since...he couldn’t even recall. When was even the last time he had been unable to get a final word in?!

Unacceptable.

And intriguing, a part of his psyche seemed to say, but he was too irritated to pay it any mind. 

Turning on his heel, he stalked back up into the woods, returning the way he came. He weighed his options: he could tell Takehiko that he just needed to accept the issue and move along, but then he would never hear the end of it. He could lie to him, and tell him that Mazikeen had given her blessing and let him deal with the fallout. He could bide his time and then strike the demoness down himself and blame it on someone else, but now that he knew she had born a child with that maniac Loki who knew what that could lead to, either from Lilith’s kin or his. 

No. He would need to draw her with honey rather than vinegar. 

Growling, he fished his phone out of his pocket and called Amelio at Ex Lux. “It seems I’ll be needing you to run things a bit longer than I anticipated. I have to lay on the charm with this one.”

“So an extra...day? Maybe two, tops?”

“Your faith in me is why I’m glad you’re my number two, Amelio. Here’s hoping.”

\---

The next day, Lucifer said nothing. Mazikeen wasn’t outside nor was the window open. He approached only as far as the bottom of the stairs, where he set down a large basket of fruit: apples and oranges and bananas that he got at a local town, even if he paid a ridiculous price for such common things, since they weren’t in season. Tied to the handle was a note:

*I’ve seen that you have all the herbs and vegetables you could want, but I imagine that you don’t get too much fruit out here in the woods. So, please enjoy. ~L*

Lingering just beyond the treeline, he watched for about a half hour, until she timidly came out and, from the porch, leaned out and snatched the basket, bringing it inside.

Then, after two days had passed, it was a parcel of chocolate - truffles and dark morsels and a box with a gourmet variety, each with a different center - and cured meats. This time, there was no note, but he did include a lilly he had purchased from a florist near where he was staying.

That was whisked away inside as well.

At the end of the first week, he brought two bottles of wine. One was an earthy Cabernet Sauvignon, which was his favorite, and the other a sweet white. He didn’t want to take any chances that his plan might backfire, so with them he placed two glasses, a small scroll placed into one that said:

*If you would allow it, I would much enjoy a drink with you. Simply leave out a glass for me tomorrow at noon. I think you’ll find the red particularly to your liking.*

When he returned, he half-suspected there would be nothing there, that she would have poured out the wine, smashed the glasses, and left it all in a pile where he had placed it the day before. Instead, there was one cup of wine.

It was white.

“I hope you don’t think that showering me with gifts will change my mind, Lord Morningstar.”

At the window, Mazikeen had clearly pulled up a chair inside the cottage, and she sat leaning at the window sill, this time wearing gloves with her dress and veil. When she sipped at the glass, she moved her face only a few inches away, so he could not see her mouth as she did so.

“I wouldn’t dare,” he said, picking up the glass and wandering as close as he could. She was only a few feet away, but it may as well have been an entire world between them. “Did you enjoy what I brought to you? I can’t deny I’m rather taken aback. I figured the fruit would be a surefire projectile the next time I approached.”

“It would be quite foolish of me to turn my nose up at such luxuries. Especially because were they poisonous, I wouldn’t have been able to bring them into the cottage.”

Lucifer inhaled deeply of the white, catching apple and honey, enjoying how it lingered in his nose. “Loki was thorough. I can appreciate that.”

“Not so thorough that he didn’t consider me or Hela before he went on his little revenge mission against Asgard.” She looked away, and even despite the veil, Lucifer could tell that the topic was a touchy one, that his loss was one that still weighed on her heart. “Now he’s imprisoned until...gods know when.”

“I can see what he saw in you: a strong-willed, powerful woman who moves by her own rules.”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

“No?” He brought his glass up, gesturing to her. “You completely ignored my wine recommendation!” 

To that, she did laugh, softly. It was a shy, endearing sound, one that got caught in Lucifer’s ears and made him smile. Not smirk, not grin maliciously. A real smile. And that was startling, to say the least. “I’m saving it.”

“For what?”

“Well, if I find that I enjoy your company, I’ll share it with you sometime. If not, well...I can keep it to remind me of something that may have been. And then I’ll share it with someone else, and tell them about how I won it when the King of Hell --”

“Former king,” he corrected.

“This is my future story, if you please,” she said, her tone teasing as she continued. “And tell them about how I won it when the King of Hell thought he could woo me for favors.”

“What if I’m wooing you for other reasons?” he asked, letting his brows drop as he licked the rim of his glass. 

Mazikeen’s grip tightened subtly around the stem of her drink. “What kind of reasons?”

He shrugged almost dismissively. “Perhaps ones that are simply much more interesting than family reconciliation. You said I know nothing about you. Maybe I want to know more. And maybe you might want to know me, too?” Lucifer gave her a little wink, finished his wine and placed the empty vessel on the ground. “I thank you for the drink, madam.”

“Are you leaving? Already?”

Did he note some semblance of desperation in her voice? No, maybe not quite. But she did seem...interested. Shyly so, but...

“I have a few affairs to handle,” he lied, planning only to go back into town for more purchases. “I could come again tomorrow, if you’d like. At noon. So I don’t frighten you off again.”

She straightened, raising a hand to finger the edge of her veil, as if in thought. Then, he noticed an almost imperceptible shake of her head. “Do what you want. We both know I can’t stop you.”

“But would you, if you could?” He took a step forward, so close that he could feel the faint buzz of magical energy, like a coming lightning strike. 

She said nothing, standing and stepping away with a twist of her cloak, addressing him behind her before the window closed. “Good day, Lord Morningstar.”

\---

“...Salve! ye dumb hearts. Let us be still and wait by the roadside.” Lucifer closed the book, letting it fall to the ground on his coat, which he had removed an hour or more before. He wet his throat with the bottle of water he had kept by his side, and when he glanced up at the window - the screen open now, Mazikeen’s gloved arms crossed and her head atop it - he grinned. “I still cannot believe you hadn’t read ‘The Awakening.’ It’s not even long.”

“I don’t read very much,” she admitted, pressing her palms briefly to her cheeks. She still wore the veil, and it was so dark that Lucifer couldn’t tell if perhaps she was crying. Her voice remained steadfast, though, as she added, “I can’t believe you read the entire thing aloud. It was lovely, though. But so sad, as well...”

Lucifer shrugged and then wagged a finger in mock scolding. “Don’t get used to it. I’m not doing a dramatic reading of ‘The Lord of the Rings’ any time soon, got it?”

She giggled and shook her head. “I wouldn’t ask that of you. We’d be here for several days.”

“I don’t know…” he murmured, voice teasing. “It might be worth it, then. Add that to your little story: when you managed to talk the King of Hell into staying outside in the Scandinavian wilderness for entire days and nights, just to read for your pleasure.”

“That would be quite a bonus chapter, yes.”

They sat and stared at each for a long moment of silence. Not an uncomfortable silence; one that was perfect, peaceful, a wind blowing through the trees and the birdsongs calling from above them. Lucifer wondered not for the first time what it would be like to look on her face. There must have been something truly extraordinary to it, that she would keep it hidden, even in this place where only his eyes were on her.

“I wish…”

Lucifer blinked, removed from his revelry by her voice, thoughtful and considerate, quiet.

“I wish Edna hadn’t felt like her only option was to die. Robert shouldn’t have made her feel that way. Or Adèle. I wish she had known that there were other Roberts - even other Alcées - and that there was something more for her. Having children doesn’t mean that your life is over…”

“Well...this was a very different age, historically. Hindsight is 20/20, even in the future, when things have changed so much.”

When she spoke again, the words were so wistful that they were nearly carried away by the breeze. “Have they, though?”

Maybe she was right. After all, why was Lucifer here? To barter for the hand of her daughter on behalf of his son. Maybe the more things had changed, the more they had stayed the same. 

“Thanks for bringing a chair out for me,” he said, after a moment, shifting in the cherrywood desk chair that had been waiting for him. “If I had to stand, I probably wouldn’t have gotten through the first few chapters.”

“If you’re going to visit, it’s the least I could do.”

Lucifer glanced at the grass as he crossed his legs. “You could come out and join me. We could go for a walk. Or just...enjoy one another’s company without all this empty space between us?”

The hands on the windowsill clasped into small fists, trembling. Behind her, Lucifer could just make out how her wings opened and closed with agitation. “I can’t tell if you want to be my Robert or my Alcées…” she said, more to herself than to him, the veil moving in and out with deep, deliberate breaths.

“Both. Neither.” Lucifer was normally so good at twisting his words into the most pleasing shape possible, like a magician working sleights of hand, misdirecting and earning gasps and applause in equal measure. But right now, with this woman - this mysterious, stubborn, beguiling demoness - there was something to his normal fairy dust that he wanted to keep in his pocket. “I want to know you. In every sense that you’ll allow me.”

“For your son?”

“For me.” He paused, and he regretted saying it, but he added, “Although you could consider offering him and Hela the chance of their own romance. Don’t drive your daughter to the water because of your own misgivings.”

And just like that, it was as if a cold winter had fallen where moments ago had been spring. Mazikeen straightened, took her arms from the windowsill and said resolutely, “You’re right. I have considered it. More than I think you believe. And be that as it may, I also will not watch while she is dragged under and drowned by another. So the answer is still ‘no.’”

This time, when the window closed, it was with a spiteful snap, and as Lucifer walked back to the small house on the edge of town, he was surprised how he felt worn out in a way that made his wings feel a hundred pounds heavier. Gone was the crisp irritation of the first day. 

“I am not falling for her,” he said as he splashed his face with cold water and retreated to bed.

Lucifer had told countless lies - millions, probably - but that was the first time he questioned one told to himself.

\---

When Lucifer returned the next day, Mazikeen was not waiting for him. All the drapes were closed, the windows shut, and the chair had been brought inside.

The day after that, it was the same. This time, he called out for her.

“Mazikeen?”

No answer.

On the third day, he came back with a bouquet of flowers, an assortment of all colors and kinds. He had taken the time to look up each one’s name and meaning, and the florist let him craft it into a beautiful array: red and yellow carnations for love and rejection respectively. Chamomile for patience. Daffodils for regard. Purple hyacinth for sorrow, regret and a hope for forgiveness. And morningglory for affection.

Carefully, he tossed the flowers onto the porch, watching them rest at the doorstep.

And he waited. 

And waited.

For hours, as the light faded from the sky and darkness fell. As the soft tweets and trills of birds were replaced by the constant steady song of insects and the belching of frogs and toads by the lake. Lucifer started by sitting on the grass, then had to resort to lying back, his wings sprawled, staring into a sky of endless stars. He could never see the stars, in Los Angeles. If he went out to the desert, sure, but it felt like it took hours to get far enough away from the city lights that he could make them out, a smattering of tiny dots across black canvas. 

Of course he made the mistake of closing his eyes, and in what seemed like only a second, something was draped over his legs. He sat up and found a worn, checkered blanket that had been all but thrown on him, and the flowers were missing from the porch. A lost opportunity.

Not one to be outdone, Lucifer pulled the blanket to his chest, and, removing his jacket and using it as a pillow, went back to sleep.

The morning light struck his eyes - a soft glow at first, then more piercing and direct as the sun creeped up into the space between the trees - and brought him back to the picturesque moment of the clearing, the cottage, a blue sky overhead. The smell of something sweet tickled his nose and when he sat up, he found a plate of eggs, crisped bacon, pancakes with baked apples on top and a steaming mug of coffee.

“I didn’t know how you take it.”

When Lucifer glanced up, he saw Mazikeen reclining on the porch. She wore a cable knit sweater, roomy and large on her, the same veil covering her face. Now, though, Lucifer could see her long dark hair tumbling down her shoulders, wings neatly tucked against her back. A tan skirt went down to her ankles, to boots she had laced and curled up near her side.

“I haven’t had a breakfast like this in quite some time,” he commented, picking up the plate and letting the sweet and savory aromas mingle in his nostrils. 

“Well, if you’re intent on staying through the night, it seems only polite.” 

“More polite than ignoring me?”

“I thought after two days you would give up and go back to wherever home is for you.”

He took a bite of the eggs first. They were perfect, velvety and rich with butter and cream. “No, no, you haven’t gotten rid of me that easily. I have quite a lot of stamina.” He gave her a smile and could have sworn she glanced away. Embarrassed perhaps? He hoped so. “You’ve made quite a fool out of me, you know.”

“Oh? Did you need me to assist you with that?”

Lucifer let out a bark of laughter, nearly choking. “Well played.” He chewed a piece of bacon thoughtfully before continuing. “Here I thought you were living a meager life out here in the woods. You seem quite well-stocked, though.”

“There’s an old blind woman with a small farm a few hours from here. I trade her for herbs and services at times - cleaning, upkeep of her barn, simple chores - and she gives me a few eggs and things that she trades with her neighbors.”

“And the apples?” he asked, cheekily.

“Why, those just found themselves at my doorstep one day. I figured they had been misplaced.”

Lucifer chuckled again as he devoured the fluffy, light pancakes. The apples really were a good choice to serve with them, their caramelized juices acting as an even better syrup than anything from a bottle he had ever had. 

Once he was finished, Lucifer put the plate down on in front of him and leaned back against the blanket still spread out on the ground. It was another of those silent moments between them, but this time, Lucifer was the one to break it. “I want to see you.”

Mazikeen raised a hand to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. “I’m right here in front of you.”

“No. I want to look upon your face. Please.”

She considered for a moment, her hands dropping into her lap and toying at the hem of her skirt.

He continued, even at the risk that she would flee from him again, that she might not return a second time. “I want to see your eyes. I want to know what your mouth looks like. And the curve of your cheek. I want to know if you have a small nose or one that has a little bump. I need to know if you are as beautiful as I imagine.”

“I’m not,” she nearly whispered, tugging the fabric covering her face tightly, as if she was afraid that the wind would come then like some fiend to steal her agency. “Not beautiful the way that you would favor. And probably not at all what you think you see in your mind’s eye, I’m sure.”

“That’s impossible,” he said, leaning forward, insistent. “You could only be *more* beautiful, Mazikeen. Because I already know that you are stunning. I’m already utterly taken with you.”

He heard as much as saw her tight gasp, the inhalation that brought the veil close to her lips beneath. “Don’t...say such things, Lord Morningstar. Please, I--”

“Don’t tell you the truth? You want me to lie to you? Why do you think I’m still here?” In some small corner of his heart, he wondered why his voice was rising, why he felt like this was the most important argument he could be having with someone, with her. Because there was a truth there that startled him, but instead of recoiling from it, it pushed him forward. “Do I need to make some show of it to you? I’ll leave and write letters, pages long about how I miss you, about how I want to sit with you and read to you and eat your cooking. I’ll stand outside with a boombox - yes, I will find a boombox that still exists somewhere in the world, not my phone, not some cheap thing, I will carry an entire stereo here to the middle of the forest - and I will play every terrible song ever written about love at your window, just to see you look down at me.”

That made her laugh. A breathy, entranced laugh, like she was imagining the sight of him, like a scene from a movie. And that made him smile.

“I can play the piano, but I’ll leave and learn to play the guitar. And I won’t come back until I can sing songs I’ve written for you with your name in them. Is that what you want?” 

“My Lord, I--”

“At least call me by my name. I want to hear how it sounds, from your voice.”

She paused then, and after a moment, she gathered her breath and said, “Lucifer.” Quiet, timid still, even despite how she had risen to such occasion to welcome him closer and closer. Even now, he had made his way as far as he could dare, and she was sitting on the porch’s ledge, fingers gripping the edge of the wood like she was at the end of a pier staring into endless ocean. They were so close he could see the smooth beds of her nails, neatly cut, and the leathery quality of her wings, which had splayed and were hovered around her protectively. “Lucifer,” she repeated.

It was like drops of water for a parched, thirsting man.

“Mazikeen,” he answered.

Far off, a rumble of thunder interrupted them, and they both looked east. A swirling of dark clouds could just be made out a few miles off, even though the sun shone bright above them. 

“You should go,” she said, getting to her feet, the spell of the moment broken. “The storms come quickly, and they can be violent, and there’s nowhere for you to take shelter.”

“I’ll come back,” he said, the weight of promise heavy in his words. 

The demoness lingered for a moment, her small wing shielding a cold wind that blew at them, ominously predicting the rain that would appear too soon. “Then take the blanket in case you get caught short of wherever you are staying.”

He did, scooping it up in his arm as he pulled his jacket on and started across the clearing back towards the trail, muttering quiet curses at the heavens for once more bringing ruin and upset to his plans. He reached the threshold of the small home just as the clouds opened and a torrential downpour soaked the earth, crashing thunder and lightning causing the windows to shudder.

Lying down on the bed, he listened to the destructive gale outside, holding the blanket close to his face and smelling the earthiness of the forest floor, traces of burning wood, and almost imperceptibly, the barest odor of what he thought could only be Mazikeen.

\---

“You’ve *never* been to California? Ever?”

“I’m afraid not. It just seems so far away.”

“Oh, you absolutely must. It’s fantastic. Look, I have some pictures.” 

Lucifer leaned forward and placed his phone on the ground just in front of the bottom step. Two days had passed since he had last visited; the rain had been an unwelcome guest intent on staying longer than was appropriate. But today, the sun had reappeared, and though it remained chilly, it was a perfect day for him to call on her. 

Mazikeen had even left out the chair again, so his slacks were spared the wet of the ground.

Once he was sitting up again, she reached out and took it, wiping the screen with the corner of her dress. She was wearing the same thing she did that first day, even down to the cloak, but instead of being hooded, her hair was tied up in a messy knot on top of her head. “I like it, like that,” he had said when he first appeared, and she had stepped out of the door. “It suits you very well.”

She had made a small curtsy in response, and for just that second, she seemed as young as Hela, at the ceremony that felt so long ago.

“I didn’t realize you were so close to the sea,” she said, a fingertip thumbing the screen through his pictures he had taken. He tried to remember which ones were on there, but he knew it was nothing scandalous. Just the city, the Pacific Ocean, photos taken in and around the club.

“I have a boat. If you came to visit, I could take you out on it. We could drink pina coladas and watch the sunset. There are dolphins, sometimes. They like to swim in the wake.” He couldn’t resist smiling wistfully at the thought. He didn’t go out often, but for her, he would make a whole weekend of it.

“It sounds beautiful.”

“Though the veil may not hold up in the breeze off the water, I should caution you.” He shrugged in jest. “I don’t make the rules or anything, but just a practical observation.”

She giggled softly as she returned the phone to the ground between them, and he took it back, pocketing it.

“I’m afraid I don’t travel very much,” she confessed.

“I would make any arrangements you need. I have a very spacious private jet available, and the most comfortable private quarters above Ex Lux.”

“Are they *your* private quarters, though, Lucifer?”

There it was. His name again. Almost blasphemously sweet on her lips. Had his name ever been spoken with such subtle kindness and regard?

“Of course,” he said, his timbre deep, cadence low, intimately so. “Only the best for you, my dear Mazikeen.”

He could tell she was staring at him, her neck stretched, her head tipped in thought, in fantasy perhaps. “I like to think you’d be a very...cordial host.”

“Yes,” he said, the single word dragged out, sibilant. “I guarantee that you would be surrounded in luxury. I would give you everything your heart desired. Everything you could want, I would offer you by my own hand.” He couldn’t help adding, his gaze dark and gentle. “Or my tongue, if you so wished.”

A thrill surged through him at just the subtlest shift in her pose: a shiver and her legs tightening together. To be between those legs would be paradise, would make every sunset pale in comparison. He’d sell the whole sea for just one opportunity to make her writhe beneath him. 

“And your son?”

How could such a small phrase make him feel suddenly doused with cold water? “What of him?”

“Have you forgotten why you came here? Or are you joking?”

Lucifer sighed and sat straighter, lifting both hands to flip his collar up against the breeze. “I won’t lie to you. Of course I remember. How could I not? Why? Have you changed your mind about his situation?”

Mazikeen was stiff, still and suddenly motionless, regarding him in a way that her body language conveyed like...indifference. “No. I haven’t.”

“Then why bring it up at all?” It shouldn’t have moved him as much as it did, but...his face flushed with anger barely suppressed. “I can’t even convince you to be near me, or show me your face, or --”

“Lucifer, please.”

“I don’t even know why I’m still here,” he said sharply in aggravation, slapping his palm against the chair’s arm before resting his elbow there so he could rub his forehead. There was a pain in his head that was growing worse, and he took several breaths to sooth it. 

When he looked up again, Mazikeen had risen to standing, her arms clasped around her middle. “I’ve been wondering the same.”

He stared at her. There were so many things that he wanted to say, that frankly he wanted to yell, but the thought of how each would end made it even worse. “Please, Mazikeen,” he finally said instead, his brows tightly knit. “Consider.” As she held herself tighter, he made his way toward the porch, hand outstretched even as it brushed the wall of energy that shuddered and shocked at him. He ignored the sensation, focusing on her. “Mazikeen.”

For just a moment, it was like one hand was floating away from her body, toward his. But then...

“I’m...I’m sorry, I can’t.”

“But…”

“Don’t ask me again, please.”

And she fled, disappearing behind the door that closed with a thunderous slam.

\---

Lucifer was going to leave. He had had enough. There was only so much even he could take. Takehiko could wage his own battles without Lucifer having his heart torn out of his chest time and again. But then, as he was packing his things, he came across the blanket, warm from lying in a sunbeam from the window.

He could have left it, but...Lucifer was not in the business of ignoring obvious signs. 

So he folded it up and left the house. 

One last time, he promised to himself. 

But when he arrived at the cottage, there was no sign of life. Unlike the number of times that Mazikeen had ignored him, however, the house did not seem purposefully closed up. The curtains were open, letting in the morning, and the basket of freshly cut herbs was sitting on the porch, sparking with water and drying in the sun.

Lucifer didn’t even bother calling out. He knew she wasn’t there. And as he made his way back towards the trail, it was like his feet had a mind of their own, and instead of turning away toward the small town, to his jet, to America...he headed further into the forest, silently, his ears listening for any hint of where she may have gone.

He walked for what seemed like miles, concentrating, trying to even sense her energy. If he had been at his own home with his own instruments, he could have whipped up an easy spell to put him on the right track, but...here, he was simply wandering.

Again, he felt the weight of surrender (an emotion that made him more angry than anything else), but just as he was about to give up, the faintest melodic tune came to him, carried through the trees from the base of the mountain he had seen only a moment before as his final roadblock.

Mazikeen. She was singing. A beautiful, haunting string of notes, discordant at points but just enough to keep him engaged to the point of wanting more.

So much more.

He followed it, each tone like breadcrumbs, leading him down a small path to a cave entrance where he finally could make out her slight, cloaked form. She slipped inside like a mouse, her brown cloak trailing behind her. Keeping his distance, he watched, transfixed, as she walked to a shimmering pool, lit by a small hole in the wall that let in soft, indirect light from the outside. 

He didn’t dare blink as the cape pooled to the ground at her feet.

Or when her gown joined it, wings bowing to let it fall from her back.

She was wearing nothing underneath, and that made Lucifer’s mouth go painfully dry. Her skin was a smooth creamy plain save for some places on her shoulders and arms that had been touched by the sun, dotted occasionally by patches of freckles and marks he could just make out from where he was standing. Her dainty feet stepped carefully across the stones, and when she climbed up onto the edge of the pool, a flap of her wings scattered the steam that had collected on its surface.

And finally, the veil. The thrice-cursed veil, which she, of course, tossed behind her so he still could not see her face.

It was all Lucifer could think about as he removed his coat, his shirt, his pants and boots, leaving them neatly piled with the blanket by the stone where he had been taking refuge. The cautionary voice in his head was telling him how poorly this could go, but it was easily stifled. There were far too many wonderful ways it could go as well.

She continued to sing softly as she made her way out to the middle of the pool. When she dipped her head to wash her long hair, he slipped in soundlessly and made his way over to her. The water was warm in a way that melted into Lucifer’s bones, calmed him, inspired him on until he wrapped his arms around her waist as she returned to standing.

Mazikeen spun around in shock, crying out for just a moment until she recognized him. And even then, her eyes were wide, startled. “What are you doing here?”

Lucifer couldn’t even reply. He was too busy staring at her, taking her in. Her face was...it was the most amazing thing he had ever seen. The left side of it reminded him in many ways of Hela: her almost glowing white skin, her mouth parted, her gaze sweet even in spite of her still recovering from his presence (though he couldn’t help but be satisfied as she didn’t pull away from him, more curious than opposed, he figured). 

But her right side...it was breathtaking. Much in the way half of her daughter’s body was corpse-like, so too was Mazikeen’s face. There was no flesh there to cover the red, rotting tissue that was exposed to the air. Her hair covered where her ear would have been, and her eye, beautiful thing, was large and unblinking, the white of it matching her perfect teeth that, without cheek or lip, grit together.

Words continued to fail him, so he decided to not rely on them. Softly, he kissed each of her cheeks, smiling at the intake of breath as his mouth touched the hard, smooth sinew and muscle. Her one eyelid fluttered and shut, and he brought his lips to hers. It was a completely different experience than any kiss he had ever shared with a person, or creature, or demoness. He kept his affections shallow at first, acclimating to the asymmetry of her face, but it quickly deepened, becoming insistent, their tongues mingling before his own entered her mouth.

“I missed you,” he said, finally breaking the kiss to breathe. “I hadn’t even left yet, and already I missed you.”

She smiled, her cheeks red, and not simply from the warm water enveloping them both. 

“I want you,” he breathed into her ear, kissing her earlobe. “I want you so much that I think I might fall apart if I can’t have you.”

“Lucifer…” Her arms encircled his back, touching the base of his wings, fingering the spot where the flesh changed and molded into the long, powerful appendages. It sent an immediate, fierce shock of arousal through him like a live wire.

“If you keep touching me like that, I won’t be held responsible for the things I do to you.” He laughed softly, mouthing just so, so tenderly at her neck, making her draw in closer. “Is that what you want? For me to ravish you, Mazikeen?”

Her body sagged, as if his voice had made her knees weaken. “Please…”

Reaching up with one hand, he gripped his fingers into her hair and tugged her back by it so she was looking into his face. Not painfully so, but a firm, assertive grip. “Tell me,” he commanded, his tone thick with lust. “I want to hear you tell me what you desire.”

Each breath she took was deep, heavy, and even as he waited for her reply he could not be patient. Dipping his head, he laved her throat with his open mouth, tasting sweat and water and the blissful damp skin beneath. “You!” she said, in one loud exhalation that echoed against the walls. “You, Lucifer.” 

Mazikeen made a squeal of delight and shock as Lucifer suddenly picked her up with a splash, wrapping her legs around his waist easily while pulling her into yet another heated kiss. His hands travelled down to the soft, plush backside, gripping and urging her to grind against his front, which she did with undulating abandon.

“Then have me you shall,” he murmured as he slid his face between her breasts, delighting in how they softly surrounded his cheeks. He felt her hands run into his hair, bringing him in, and he glanced up at her from under his lashes as he took to biting and devouring each in turn. Her head rolled back with a loud moan.

“You’re so very responsive,” he commented as he blew a cool breath against one nipple before inhaling it into his mouth, tongue teasing it between his gentle gripping teeth. The other he rolled in a palm, pinching the sensitive bud and flicking it with his short nail. Her legs squeezed almost painfully around him, and undeterred, he switched, sucking a deep rose-colored bruise into the milky skin. 

As she cried out louder, he let go, moving back to look into her face. “I’m going to touch you now, but I want you to try not to come without me, before I’m inside you. Can you do that for me?”

She pressed her face into his shoulder for a moment with a weak nod. “I’ll...I’ll try.”

“Good girl,” he whispered, letting one hand slip between her legs while the other tipped her chin. “Watch me. Don’t take your eyes off me…”

With careful, calculated touches of his finger, he played at first with the floating tendrils of hair on her mound, just so barely caressing the sensitive flesh beneath, making her shudder in his arms. He moved further still, running his fingertips against the two most outer walls, enjoying how he could just sense the most tiny quiver of delight within the sweet center of her. She pushed down insistently on his hand, but he moved it away.

“Lucifer, please!”

“I told you I would touch you,” he said, the words lilting playfully. “I didn’t say how...or how much...or even where…”

She let out a breathy gasp as his thumb took the back route past her most sensitive womanhood, tracing patterns against the line that extended toward her rear. He wouldn’t go far, but he knew the wonderland of sensitivity in that one stretch, and he was rewarded with another noise of pleasure as she nearly broke her gaze from his. 

With the same deft caresses that he used when playing the piano, he drummed against the gorgeous gift between her legs, each touch sweetly teasing before moving just slightly deeper. He watched with no small degree of joy as Mazikeen’s back arched, pressing those beautiful breasts against his chest. He ventured inside, exploring the depths of her wondrous caverns, feeling even in spite of the water how easily her juices flowed.

Then, turning his hand, his thumb found the secret stone resting at the top of her loveliness, teasing and turning around it, pressing gently...and then quicker…

“Lucifer! I...I can’t, I--!”

“Can’t you?” His free hand reached behind her to stroke from her shoulder to her wings, massaging the length of one in a fluid, languid jerk as he continued the rhythmic rub inside of her, an assault on both the surface and within. 

She didn’t answer, nor did she need to, because in that moment her eyes rolled and her body bucked, tightened and spasmed into a full, powerful orgasm. Each cry filled the open air around them until Lucifer kissed her again, swallowing her entranced sounds of passion. 

“Don’t worry,” he murmured, kissing her cheek as she panted, recovering from the wave of intense pleasure. “You can make it up to me.”

“How’s that?” she asked, a small, coy smile playing at her lips.

“Ride me,” he said, catching her bottom lip and sucking it into his mouth momentarily before raising his hand that had been between her legs and licking it in an obscene gesture. Most of her musk had washed away in the spring, but he could still taste the sweet tang of her satisfaction. “You’ll find I’m already *quite* ready for you.”

“As you wish.” She shifted her hips and together, they sank a bit deeper, and…

Lucifer loosed his own noise, wrenched from his throat by how the warm water parted and she engulfed him utterly, tight and perfect like a sheath. “Mazikeen…”

With her hands on his shoulders and his palms once more placed on her backside, they moved together at her pace, a relaxed, lovely dance of joined bodies. He peppered her chest, neck and jaw with kisses, eyes closing with each wonderful rise and fall. His wings moved to touch her own, to bring her in even closer. He had not expected for the sensation of his angelic limbs mingling with her demonic form - feathers splaying against the dark, soft skin of her wings - to make him feel heady, not simply with arousal but with full, soul-deep desire to be with her, now and always.

“Come with me,” he growled. “Come, Mazikeen, *now.*”

She did, everything of her shivering so sweetly as he filled her with his seed, and he crushed her small body against his as if willing for them to be truly one in that moment. She sobbed, overwhelmed, and he kept holding her even as the water stilled. 

\---

A week later, Lucifer was back in Los Angeles. Mazikeen had come with him, and they arrived only a day before, but even in the small amount of time, she had made an honest man out of him. He had let her take a seat in the copilot’s chair of the jet to look out over the ocean and the ice caps as they made the journey back to California, and when they arrived, he immediately whisked her away to his boudoir, where she could rest from the long trip.

Although, to be honest, there had been a fair degree of less than particularly restful activity as well. 

“Join me at the club tomorrow,” he had whispered as she rested her head on his chest, utterly sated, one of her wings curled around them both. “I want to show you off to the world.”

“Ah, that’s right.” She pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth playfully. “You owe me a song. You were quite insistent about that.”

He rolled his eyes but grinned. “Will piano do? Or am I going to have a long night ahead of me learning the guitar?”

She sighed theatrically, then giggled softly as he ran a fingertip down her spine. “I suppose I can concede just this once.”

Now, the bottle of Dom Perignon opened with a loud pop, and Lucifer smiled as he poured it into two flutes on the table in the private booth. Ex Lux was having a busy night, but there was no pressing business, except for the one right here at his side. Or, rather, in his lap.

“That dress looks spectacular on you,” he said, his free arm wrapped around her waist. “Red is absolutely your color.” Lucifer had purchased the dress earlier in the day while she slept, an elegant, sleeveless gown of crimson folds that started at her chest and went down to her ankles. Classy and beautiful, complete with a pair of opera gloves that went past her elbows. It also greatly complimented his own attire: one of his nicer suits with a tie that was also lined in red satin, on its underside.

“Thank you. It’s beautiful.” She reached out for one of the glasses, and Lucifer dipped his head to drag his lips against her slender neck, where Mazikeen smelled like mint from his shower. “You know, it’s a full booth. I could sit across from you.”

“Don’t you dare,” he teased, nosing her ear. I’ve spent more than enough time with space separating us. I always want you here, where I can touch you.” He picked up his own glass, bringing it close to hers. “To you, my darling.”

“And you,” she murmured, stroking his cheek. “And many more evenings together.”

Just as they were about to clink glasses, there seemed to be quite a lot of noise and chaos from just the other side of the partition separating them from the busy club on the other side. Lucifer heard Amelio say, loudly, “Your Grace, if you’d please--”

The curtain opened with an angry flourish, and Mazikeen clinged to Lucifer in alarm as Takehiko appeared, face red and eyes angry, glowering at them. Amelio was at his shoulder, but Lucifer raised a hand, waving him on.

“Father,” Takehiko growled through gritted teeth. 

“Takehiko. And you two are already acquainted,” he stated, gesturing between Mazikeen and his son. “So, with greetings out of the way, is there something I can do for you this evening?”

Takehiko looked about ready to slam a fist into the table, only further enraged by his father’s nonplussed air of calm. “Are you trying to make a mockery of me? Of our family?”

“No more than usual…why? You got what you wanted. Mazikeen gave her blessing for you to court Hela. Isn’t that what you should be doing right now instead of disturbing us?”

Now, his hand did come down, and Lucifer’s gaze darkened as the two glared at one another. “What good does that do me if her damned uncle won’t allow it?”

Mazikeen gasped softly, but Lucifer made a quizzical expression. “Who?”

“Thor!” Takehiko roared. “Once he learned that *your* son was trying to court one of the goddesses of the family of Asgard, he forbade me from seeing her unless I best him in honorable combat!” 

Lucifer was silent for a second before making a prompting gesture with his hand. “And…?”

“Did you not think to mention to me that the people of Asgard consider you their enemy? Especially when I was specifically proposing how well this union would benefit all those involved?” Takehiko hissed.

Lucifer blinked for a moment, then shrugged with a carefree laugh. “It must have slipped my mind. I’m the Devil. I don’t know what those schools your mother sent you to taught you, but I’m not well-liked! Sort of goes with the territory.”

If Takehiko was enraged before, he looked like he was going to erupt like a volcano now. “What do you plan to do about it?”

Tapping his fingers to his chin in thought, Lucifer hummed. “Hmmm...well, I don’t like men, and I’m quite taken, so you’re going to have to find someone else this time. I recommend a *different* type of club for that.” Takehiko opened his mouth to say something, but with a wolfish grin and a snap of his fingers, the curtain closed once more, the end of any further conversation.

“That doesn’t concern you at all?” Mazikeen asked, voice hushed, but she couldn’t help but smile when he turned to her, kissing the back of her gloved hand. 

“Not a bit. Now, where were we?” Pulling her closer, he finally closed the gap to tap her glass with his. “To us.”

“To us,” she agreed, pacified as they each took a sip and shared a deep, tender kiss, blissfully tucked away from the world, thoroughly engrossed in the promise of one another.


	2. Metamorphosis

In front of him, Lucifer’s view was nothing but a constant stretch of blue, the color of the most perfect spring day he had enjoyed in a long while. The California sun shone above in a warm buttery ball, reflecting on the shining sea below as his boat sailed a few miles from the shore. Normally, if he were by himself, Lucifer would have been controlling the boat manually, taking care of steering and tying off the ropes. It was something he did when he needed something to do with his hands, when work at the club became too tedious.

But today...he wanted his hands free. Free to circle around Mazikeen’s waist and pull her back against him, to move away the strands of her long hair and kiss her cheek, nuzzling exposed tendons and muscle or pale, soft skin, just depending which side of her had caught his attention in that moment. The red and black striped bikini left little to his imagination (as had been his intention) and it complimented his own ebony speedo. He grinned, remembering how she had blushed when he had removed his jeans, revealing the tight garment before they got into the boat at his private shore. “What? We’re at the beach, my dear. Did you think I would want to go swimming in slacks? A three-piece suit?”

“No!” she had giggled before pulling him down by his shoulders, bumping his forehead with hers. “But I won’t lie. I might have had something to say if we weren’t alone. I don’t know how I would feel about other women getting to see this much of you.”

“Jealousy is a most unbecoming trait on you, darling,” he had teased, nipping the tip of her nose affectionately. 

“It isn’t jealousy,” she insisted. “Just...I like that you are mine.”

“The sentiment is mutual,” he had whispered, helping her into the boat and setting them off with a flick of his wrist.

Was this truly the same fair demoness that he had spent so much time courting in the Swedish woods only a few months ago? Who had refused to even show her beautiful face to him, let alone allow him his affections? Who recoiled from his touch (at first, anyway)? And now, here she was, looking at him, her eyes wide with joy and wonder. 

He was about to kiss her when she pointed at several small splashes in the water, flapping squares of brown breaking the surface and then disappearing again. “What are those?” she called over the rushing wind, delighted.

“Stingrays,” he said, patiently, unable to restrain even his own smile. It was as if her happiness was infectious.

“Ah...oh, Lucifer, look!” She wildly gestured behind them, and Lucifer turned his head. A pod of dolphins had taken to jumping and diving in the white wake behind them, their gray backs shimmering like porcelain. In the mist of their breaths, small rainbows glowed, reflecting in the sunlight. Mazikeen stared at them, entranced, and he moved again to claim her lips in a kiss, but then had to settled with pressing chastely to her cheek when she turned again. “There’s a little one!” she called, excitedly. Sure enough, alongside one of the adults, a baby dolphin seemed to be practicing keeping up, its small fins less agile and graceful from those around it. When he glanced at Mazikeen again, her gaze was focused on it, something in her expression soft. Almost...sad.

“Love?” he prompted, scooping her hand into his and pressing it to his lips until she looked at him. 

She smiled in a way that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Some might have argued that one of them was incapable of showing emotion, without a lid to squint or fold, or skin to furrow, but even in the few blissful months he had spent with her, Lucifer could see emotion in every tremble of her beautiful iris, the flex and tremor of her exposed rot. “I was...thinking about Hela. When she was a baby, she was constantly inconsolable. No matter what I did - how many times I fed her, changed her, stayed awake with her - she constantly screamed. Once, I walked in to look at her, and when she opened her little eyes and saw me, she just started howling.”

Lucifer chuckled. “So I was not the first one to discover that the way to your heart was by pestering you incessantly.”

She gave him a light-hearted slap in the shoulder. “I cannot believe that within a year’s time, she will be married. The Queen of Hell and the Goddess of Niflheim. Until they have a child, perhaps.”

“Indeed.” Lucifer’s eyes closed and his eyebrows raised with a small degree of irritation as he recalled Takehiko’s smug face when he returned yet again to Ex Lux to proudly decree that he had made peace with the court of Asgard and successfully wooed Hela, as if she was a prize that he had won in some great contest. He had forced himself again into Lucifer’s private booth, ordered the most expensive wine that he had in his stores and demanded that his father drink with him to his good fortune. 

Lucifer had, if only to keep from having the wine be wasted. 

“Are you happy for them?”

When Lucifer opened his eyes, Mazikeen was staring at him in a way that was difficult to decipher. She seemed invested in his opinion, and he wanted to point out that for quite some time she had been the one who had been contrary regarding their “happiness.” But he couldn’t bear to be that kind of person. Not on such a wonderful, perfect day. “Yes,” he said. And he was, in a way, because their blissful union meant fewer visits from his groveling, tempestuous son, asking for favors and seeking his audience to mope and complain about things he had no personal investment in.

Mazikeen was pleased with his answer, however, and finally he took her chin, tipped it towards him and…

Met with a cold, wet splash of seawater in his face.

Sputtering as Mazikeen laughed sweetly, shaking off the hand she had used to catch him off guard, she rose quickly to her feet and spread her wings. The wind and their momentum immediately caught in them, and she was airborne, taking off into the sky like a beautiful night bird. Lucifer watched her soar, and he could swear he could see her beaming face even in the distance as she rode the currents of air, gliding blissfully in the heavens.

Well. Two could play at that game.

With a gesture of his fingers, the boat stopped moving, the sail folding in on itself, and Lucifer kicked off with so much force that the bow dipped into the water and waves exploded in all directions. The salty air whipped in his face, blew back his blonde hair, and the sound of his wings reminded him of dragons, great birds of prey, pegasi. 

When he caught Mazikeen in his strong arms, she squealed and wrapped herself around him. He answered with his own laughter, even as they fell together, their limbs tangling, bodies tumbling through the air. When they got close to the surface of the ocean, Lucifer enclosed them in a tight cocoon of white feathers and energy, so when they broke through the waves, it was as if they had only leaped from a few feet and not several hundred. 

“Did you think you could escape from me?” he asked, dragging his teeth across her throat, holding her against his chest as he kicked a bit toward the shore not far off, where his feet could find purchase on the sandy bottom. “Foolish girl…”

“If I go anywhere, it is because I want you to chase me,” she said quietly, tipping her head back, welcoming every sweet bite, as if she were a beast submitting to him. 

“And chase you, I shall.” At long last, he kissed her, a long, deep exploration of her lips, her tongue, the salty wet of mouth that reminded him so much of somewhere else within her. A flavor he had developed quite a taste for in the prior months. “For there are few pleasures that excite me more than catching you, Mazikeen.”

Once he was able to stand, Lucifer ducked beneath the water and between the demoness’s legs, hooking them over his shoulders and rising once more so the bottom of her swimsuit pressed against his chin. He gazed up at her, gaze darkening with growing lust as he gave the apex of her thighs a long, hard lick. 

When she flexed and threw her head back with a deep moan, wings spreading wide with the sun glowing through their semi-transparent flesh, he wondered if there would ever be a more beautiful sight than that. 

Even just the briefest venture of his mouth over the spandex, hot and wet against his face, and already he could feel her legs trembling on either side of his head. When she squeezed, he hooked his teeth and pulled, tearing the crotch of the bikini bottom open, exposing her to his gaze. She gasped, a sound that only escalated as he finally lapped at her folds, the delightful flower bud sucked between his lips. That always made her scream with pleasure, and this was no different.

His low growl reverberated up into her as he flicked his tongue into her, a vibration that only increased when she grabbed a fistfull of his hair. He raised his hands, gripping her plush rear, kneading it and using it to leverage her riding his face. 

“Lucifer!” she called out, the cries of the gulls mingling with her desire. “Please!”

With a grin, he lowered her back down. Perhaps at another time, he would have brought her to orgasm with his tongue before his cock, but there was something about this beautiful day that encouraged him to want her fresh orgasm soaking him in the waves. With his back to the crashing swells, he used them to power his thrusts as he entered her easily, the combined moisture of the sea and her arousal welcoming him. 

“Mazikeen,” he murmured, kissing her deeply, the coiled fire within him flaring as she licked hungrily at the taste of herself on his mouth. “Mine...mine alone…”

“Yours,” she gasped, reaching under his arm to drag her nails across his wing, making his knees nearly buckle in the shallow water. Her own flapped helplessly against the foam, and he caught the thin muscle between his lips, sucking, sending her into a fit of renewed moans. “More! Please!”

He chuckled softly. “Anything for you, my heart,” he promised, rolling his hips, hitting over and over until he came with a gasping bark, encouraged by her tightening walls, a sudden gush of warmth indicating her own joined pleasure. When he kissed her again, it was like they were desperate for each other even more: licking, biting, teeth and tongues clashing. 

As she shivered and gasped, Lucifer picked her up in his arms and walked to shore, turning only briefly to nod at the boat like one might gesture at a friend lagging behind. Obediently, the boat turned and followed to the beach, coming to settle in the sand, where Lucifer took two towels from its deck and spread one down, wrapping the other around his lady.

“Is the ocean everything you were hoping it would be?” he asked quietly, the double meaning in his words clear from the teasing, glowing grin on his face.

“And more,” she breathed, letting him enfold her in his embrace and light kisses to her temple, her forehead. “Thank you for such a lovely time.”

“The pleasure was mine, I assure you.” He opened his wings and then closed them again, repeating several times until the water clinging to them shook off in droplets across the sand. Mazikeen laughed and held him tightly to avoid the spray before he started gently patting her dry. “If you enjoyed this, I have something else in store for you.”

“Anything,” she whispered, although her gaze belied her excitement, “so long as I am with you.”

He kissed her once more, a sweet, gentle moment of relaxed enjoyment. “Always.” 

\---

Lucifer’s summer home in the Santa Monica mountains couldn’t even really be considered a ‘summer home’; he found himself retreating there whenever he had gotten tired of the constant stream of faces appearing in his life, driving his mustang up the highway with the top down and the wind tousling his hair until he made his way to the winding driveway and the modern, spacious domicile. 

Despite its hugeness, Lucifer rarely entertained. In fact, he could count on his fingers the number of people he had even told the address to, let alone allowed to set foot inside. There was a rustic aesthetic to it in the way the wood paneling of the cathedral ceiling ran down the long sitting room to the fireplace, marked by large stone brick that lined the floor to ceiling windows overlooking the mountains and Pacific Ocean beyond. The lighting fixtures had been built into sections within the layers of wood, providing a warm but indirect glow throughout. As he carried Mazikeen inside like a groom bringing his bride across the threshold, he kicked his shoes off at the foyer and padded across exquisite Oriental rugs that covered the floor in his bare feet. He slowed down only marginally so she could marvel at the books in countless shelves built into the walls, at the paintings that hung. 

Carefully, he took her down the stairs. The entrance was actually on the landing, whereas his personal room was below. The entire wall faced the sea and the mountainside, outside of which a myriad of colorful flowers were already in bloom, shivering in the breeze. 

“Lucifer, this is...beautiful.” Mazikeen spread her hands across the blanket on the bed, before her face lit up as she recognized it. Lucifer beamed. It was the one that she had put across him, when he spent the night waiting for her outside the cabin. He had intended on returning it, that last day, but it seemed fate had other plans. Or, well, he had at least. “You kept it?”

“Oh yes,” he said, lying beside her. Despite the knit hominess of the quilt, under it was a layer of down comforter, exquisite silk sheets, and a mattress that had been custom made to suit his particular preference of pressure. Not too hard. Not too soft. “I felt like this was a perfect place for it. My own mountain cabin on this side of the world.” 

“Are you getting sentimental, my Lord?” she teased. The sun was beginning to set, and in the warm glow, he could see how her exposed teeth shined, like a permanent grin. Her rosy lips smirked, and he could make out the long curve of her one set of lashes, fluttering against her cheek.

“Perhaps,” he admitted. “And I don’t think that will be changing anytime soon, so...best if you humor me, darling.” As he kissed her, rolling her onto her back, she opened her legs under him in such a natural way that it made him all the more overjoyed to have her, over and over. “Besides, I have found my sentimentality makes me quite a pleasant bed mate.”

Leaning up, Mazikeen took his top lip in her teeth, squeezing just minutely. A delicious shock ran immediately to his loins. “And what if it is the less sentimental Dark Prince I want in my bed?”

When she reached up to touch his face, Lucifer grabbed her wrists and pinned them to the bed. Cheeks flushed, she gasped; in surprise first, then excitement.

“I think that can be arranged, if that is truly what you wish.”

“I do.”

Lucifer ravished her until the night had overtaken them, the stars arranging themselves in the heavens and sharing space with a beautiful full moon. For minutes after she had fallen asleep against his chest, her one eye rolling unfocused like a pebble at the bottom of a pool, he could only stare at her. What had life been like, those months before he had started sharing it with her? Had he ever noticed the way the world felt when no one was at his side, to laugh with him, to share each splendid moment? Lucifer had certainly never felt lonely - how could he? Being on Earth meant a constant if not jarring awareness that one was never truly in their own space, was always sharing it with living creatures, whether they were wanted or not. But now...he couldn’t even imagine being away from her, not waking up beside her, not sharing meals and drinks and the occasional cigarette (she disliked them, not for any silly human reason but because the way the smoke escaped from her mouth made her eyes sting, never a full satisfactory exhale so much as a progressive, drifting escape).

When sleep took him, it was with fond relaxation, holding Mazikeen’s slight, bare body against his own.

It seemed like within no time at all he sensed a movement beside him, and he blinked his eyes to see her looking at him, her face resting against the crook of her arm. “The sun is rising,” she said, the crust of slumber making her voice slightly raspy in an alluring way. “Watch with me?”

He nodded and yawned, sitting up and guiding her close against him, kissing the top of her head, the tip of her nose, and then her mouth. Lucifer didn’t care about the staleness that still clinged to her, the squinty crinkle of her brow...in fact, the defenseless ease of her morning self softened any edges that she possessed. It made him forget that she was a daughter of Lilith, a dark-blooded demoness. How could he be anything but enamored?

“Beltane is coming,” she said, her eyes focusing on the orange and red glow of the horizon, the way it reflected on the desert flowers outside as they too seemed to rouse from a night cowed in upon themselves.

“Yes,” Lucifer agreed, uncertain what more to say. Of course it was. He had been knee-deep in paperwork since the New Year making sure Ex Lux was ready for the sundry beasts, demons and monsters that came from across the world to celebrate at the club. It was great for business, if not extremely rowdy. And the clean up process in the days following was...arduous. Not that he personally got his hands dirty, but the stories he had heard… “Do you have any traditions for the feast?”

Mazikeen was quiet for a moment, biting her lip. He could sense a tightening in her neck, along her shoulders. “I...It has been some time, since I celebrated, as it were. Many years. But it does not escape my notice, when the time comes. How could it? But they’ve always been the same: a retreat into my home, to wait for the summer.”

*How could it?* There was something in the way she said that, and part of Lucifer was as curious as it was wanting to drop the topic entirely.

“Oh?” he prompted, giving in to his need for more. “Why did you stop celebrating in lieu of observing?”

Her eyes still gazing out the window to the rising sun beyond, she confessed to him, “It was different after Loki was imprisoned.”

Lucifer’s lip curled, and he quickly tried to wipe it away. Loki. The mad fool of Asgard. Of course. He shouldn’t have been surprised. Frankly, common sense should have dawned on him that there would be some correlation. “Tell me more,” he said, trying to soften his voice, smooth the jagged order hidden there. “I assume he stayed with you, before that.”

Blushing, Mazikeen reached up to finger a lock of her hair. The sun had just begun its climb over the glassy ocean as she continued. “I would stay locked inside the cabin until the night before the festival. He never simply knocked or arrived unannounced...no, he would always build a great bonfire outside. Lying in bed, I would smell the wood burning, hear the crackling, and the reflection of the fire against my ceiling would dance like spirits. I would rise and open the blinds and he would be standing below in all his regalia, his arms outstretched, and I --” 

When she stopped speaking, Lucifer blinked and realized that she was staring at him, and that he was staring down at the blanket over their laps, tightly gripping a corner of it in his hand. “Go on,” he urged. 

“Well, I’m sure you can imagine what more there was.” She shrugged, letting go of the piece of hair to rub her shoulder. “It was Beltane. And he was...very kind, especially given my state at the time.”

“Your state?”

Mazikeen’s face warmed even more, and he pressed his hand against hers, squeezing, careful of how tight. He wanted to shake her, demand every word, and instead he swallowed down his impulse, trying to lure the knowledge out with sweet honey rather than wrathful vinegar.

“It isn’t appropriate,” she said.

“Do I seem like someone who cares about how inappropriate something may be?” 

She took a breath, shaking her head. “No. I’m sorry. It’s just...in the spring and summer, often just as Beltane begins and then through the following months, my kind are...we become quite fertile. One might say we go into heat. For many demonesses, if a partner hasn’t been secured beforehand, it can be a rather perilous time to be alone.”

“Thus Loki’s wards.”

Mazikeen nodded. “Many of us are quite adept at protecting ourselves, but be that as it may…This is why most of our children are born in the winter. It is the most likely time for us to become pregnant.”

“It sounds as if it can be quite a harrowing period.”

“Oh, no,” she said, seemingly before she could stop to think. “It can be wonderful. When Loki would arrive and stay in the cabin with me, his touch would be like balm on a burn. I never loved him more than in those months, when he would be so sweet and caring. We would stay awake long into the night, and during the day, we…” She covered her face with the back of her hand, a soft sound like a tinkling bell escaping between her fingers.

“During the day?”

Shyly, she looked away, hugging her arms. A great kaleidoscope of emotions swirled through her, between her voice and her body. Joy. Sadness. Something more. Longing? “We would go out into the forest, where the trees were thick, and the grass soft. I would often pursue him, flying in the branches, and he would dart around, sometimes using his illusions to trick me. I can’t be certain, of course, but I like to believe it was during one of those days that I conceived Hela.”

Lucifer shuddered, a cold, unpleasant tremor that went from the top of his head to his very toenails. He suppressed his scowl as best he could, painting a smile on his lips when Mazikeen regarded him. “It sounds very lovely,” he said, adjusting his mental crown. All hail, the Prince of Lies.

“It was,” she said. “But then after he returned to Asgard that last time, I simply...stayed inside through Beltane. I would dream of the bonfire. Some nights, I would even wake up and realize I had opened the window to nothing but an empty, warm night.”

Despite his initial revulsion, Lucifer felt something in him tug, like there was a wire attached between his heart and the sheen that had covered Mazikeen’s eyes. He opened his arms and embraced her, his thumbs flicking away the wet drops where they had started to track down her cheeks.

“Forgive me,” she whispered. “It shouldn’t still be hard, but…”

“I know. You loved him. And he gave that up for his own vendetta. It makes sense that it would still sting.”

Her head nodded, and Lucifer pulled her closer, quietly watching as the newborn sun filled the room with light. The moon was beginning to fade, a smudge in the sky, and he counted his breaths, acknowledging the present. Yes, Loki was a sore topic, perhaps always would be. As much as he had joked about Mazikeen’s own jealous streak, he possessed it as well. It was in his nature. He did not like sharing. Never had. Never would.

“But we can think of better things,” he went on, once her body had become calm, loose and free of knots that could only be tied by lingering too long on the past. “Soon, we will have the Beltane Ball at Ex Lux. It is quite an extraordinary affair, if I do say so myself. We expand the floor, bring in beverages and food from all around the world to cater to the guests. There are glamours so we can avoid overcrowding, you see, otherwise we would have waiting lists going into the next year.” Smoothing her hair with his fingers, his voice took on a velvety quality as he whispered, “Can you just imagine how they would look at us? The former King of Hell and his beautiful demoness lover on his arm? I’ll have a dress made for you just for the occasion, sewn with silk flower petals and the most expensive fabric. And afterwards I’ll take it apart piece by piece, and it shall be a festival I assure you won’t be easily forgotten. How does that sound?”

With a proud grin, Lucifer waited for her to look up at him with an expression of adoration, her red cheeks confirmation of the sweet glow his words would instill in her. 

He found himself deflate entirely as she only sunk further into his side, refusing to even regard him.

“I think it might be best if I not attend.”

The cold of the water splashed in his face the day before was nothing compared to the chill of those words. “How could you say such a thing?” he asked, a half-laugh accompanying his query. Anger flared in him like a dog tethered to a lead, barking and snarling, just barely restrained.

“When I go into heat, it is not simply a change to my composition, but to *all* of me,” she explained, shame heavy and terrible as she finally sat up, out of his grasp entirely. “My entire body becomes vile. Monstrous. And the odor is…” He could see her shake her head. “It is abhorrent to angels. It’s as if it was made to discourage intermingling. No amount of bathing or perfumes will mask it.” She was nearly silent, the words quivering on her tongue, “I will disgust you.”

“No.”

“Let me hide myself away until after Beltane. It will be better. I will ruin the celebration. You won’t even be able to look at me the same way after --”

The tether snapped. 

Lucifer grabbed Mazikeen by her shoulders and pulled her back, forcing her to look him in the face. He could tell that his visage was stormy, if not just in how much the heat in him flared but also the way that Mazikeen’s face filled with fear. “No,” he said, again, firmly, his teeth so tight together he wondered if they could splinter. “Mazikeen. I love you. You are mine, and I am yours. No transformation you go through will change that.”

Mazikeen gasped, a swift intake of breath. And Lucifer realized that this was the first time he had said the words. Not simply calling her ‘love’ affectionately, or making grandiose statements of adoration. Three words alone, like the most powerful spell that could be cast. 

“I love you.” He said them again as her eyes filled once more with tears. “Believe me. I would love you no matter what form you took, whatever way you smelled. I crossed the world to claim you. I will not lose you for even a moment.”

“Lucifer…”

When he kissed her, it was like every single one of their kisses before then had been built to reach this peak. He kissed her lips, her exposed jaw, sucked on her tongue. He kissed her until all the breath was pulled out of him, until he had to gasp like he was coming up from the bottom of the ocean for air. 

“I love you,” she sobbed. “I love you, I love you, I love you…”

They remained in bed until the sun disappeared from view, rising away out of sight. 

\---

When Lucifer returned with Mazikeen from the house in the mountains, it was as if he had never left. Ex Lux was constantly abuzz with life; if it was not the normal patrons - well-dressed demons, their lovers adorning their arms like purchases they had made, or witches draped by the skins of their past familiars, or sirens that had come from the ocean for a holiday on land - it was new staff being trained to handle the influx they would see at the Beltane Ball.

In fact, at that moment, Lucifer was staring across the booth at a strapping man who had shown interest in joining his team to be a server for the celebration. “You understand that this is not an opportunity to wet your whick,” Lucifer said, his eyes leveled, appraising yet indifferent. “If you work the Beltane Ball, I expect you to man your station, follow orders and assist our paying customers with anything that they need. I have zero tolerance for people serving being found in compromising positions.”

The man nodded. His skin was the color of rich olives, and he had deep green eyes. Yes, he would be highly sought out by any who would be lacking a partner that night. “That will not be a problem, my Lord.”

“Oh? And why is that exactly? You are obviously attractive. You do not expect me to believe that just because you say you would not be distracted that I would not find you in, say, the restroom, or the wine cellar, or…?”

The corners of the man’s mouth crept up in a soft smile, full lips parting slightly as he unbuttoned the top of his dress shirt. Against his flesh, Lucifer could make out sigils cut into him. “My mistress is...very particular about how I conduct myself when she is away. She also, however, wants me to finish school, and I could use the money.”

Lucifer couldn’t resist smiling. How pragmatic, if rather old fashioned. Barbaric, even. “Well, then. Far be it for me to deny someone’s education.” He extended his hand, and they shook. “Welcome to Ex Lux. Go see Pruflas. He will provide you with your schedule and uniform.”

When the man rose and disappeared into the crowd, Lucifer barely had time to take a sip from his water glass before Amelio appeared, his hands clasped together. Even he had been busy, and it showed in the way his compound eyes seemed to dart around. Frankly, looking at him too long made Lucifer a bit dizzy. 

“My Lord, if I may trouble you briefly?”

“If you must.”

“May I inquire on the whereabouts of the Lady Mazikeen?”

Lucifer’s glass seemed to hover in the air between his lips and the tabletop. “And why would you need that information?”

“My apologies. Her daughter is requesting to speak with her. She has travelled quite some distance, and I told her that I would seek her out.”

Lucifer shut his eyes. “Please, old friend. Give me some good news. Tell me she is alone.”

“She is, my Lord. Otherwise, I assure you, I would have brought you something stronger than water.”

Lucifer took a contemplative breath, weighing his options. He could send her away, but...after the moments shared in the mountains, he did not want to risk upsetting Mazikeen further. She had seemed so fragile, after that, and he couldn’t bear to risk making her recoil from him again. “You may bring Lady Hela over here to my private booth. See that she is not disturbed and offer her whatever she would like to drink. I will seek out Mazikeen and return promptly.”

Striding down the hallway, Lucifer approached a mirror. To most, it was simply that: a reflective surface that could be used to check one’s appearance when they walked out of the adjacent bathrooms. But when Lucifer approached it, the surface wavered slightly, like water, and he watched his reflection grow larger and larger until he was actually stepping through the mirror itself. A simple portal, one that required little magic for upkeep, but served his purposes when he had need of it. There was a brief chill that covered him, and then when he arrived at the other side, he was greeted by the sight of Mazikeen, lounging on his bed in a nightgown. She had a book in her hands, her focus so set on it that she didn’t look up until Lucifer was lying on the bed beside her.

“What are you reading?” he asked. She turned the cover to him, and Lucifer frowned slightly. There was an image of a cockroach on a sickly green background, and the words *The Metamorphosis.* “Ah. Kafka. How are you liking it?”

“It’s well-written,” she said, passively, closing it and placing it on the bedside table. When she curled up on her side to face him, her smile was rather sad. Lucifer made a mental note to find her something more pleasant to read, classic or not. “You’re back earlier than I thought you would be. Did you miss me?”

“Of course.” Lucifer kissed her cheek. “But I’m actually here to fetch you.”

Mazikeen blinked, perplexed. 

“Your daughter arrived at the club and wishes to -- hey!” Lucifer nearly tipped over into the pillows and took a book to the head as Mazikeen leapt from her spot, throwing off her gown and grabbing an evening dress from the wardrobe. 

“How is she? Does she seem okay?” she asked as she dropped a pair of shoes on the ground and slipped into them. 

“I haven’t seen her yet.” Lucifer zipped up the back of her dress as she hastily ran a brush through her hair. “I left her with Amelio.”

Mazikeen gave him a look, terse and scrutinizing. 

“Amelio is my most trusted employee, darling --”

“He’s also a housefly.” 

“Half housefly,” he corrected, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Can we go, please?” she asked, rather heatedly as she slapped the mirror, leaving a smudged hand print. Lucifer glowered. 

“It’s a portal. Not a faulty television set,” he said patiently as he took her arm in his and stepped through. 

No sooner had their feet touched the floor that Mazikeen was off like a shot, leaving Lucifer behind to a scrutinizing beastly man with a cigar. “Dames, am I right?” he slurred. 

Lucifer’s eyebrow twitched, and the cigar in the patron’s hand exploded in a cloud of smoke and tattered paper. 

By the time he returned to his private booth, Mazikeen was looking over Hela while grasping one of her hands. She was much more casually dressed than the last time Lucifer saw her at Takehiko’s coronation. The gown had been replaced by a practical dress suit and leather gloves that reminded him of ones used by equestrians. The gloves with the long pinstriped sleeves covered Hela’s own decomposing state that claimed half of her body, inherited by her mother’s Illim blood. She had even tied a paisley scarf around her neck to hide the first inklings of her corpselike charm.

Mazikeen was smoothing back Hela’s long, fair hair, smiling into her face and talking so quickly that when Lucifer cleared his throat, she jumped a bit before stepping aside so he could approach, holding his hand out to the young woman. “Hela, you remember Lucifer, I’m sure.”

Hela smiled timidly, and in that moment she truly did appear to be Mazikeen’s daughter. “We have not met directly,” she admitted. “Though my betrothed speaks of you...often.”

The implication hung heavy in the air like a dangling sword.

“All good things, I’m sure,” Lucifer said coolly, squeezing her hand and ghosting a kiss across her knuckles. “What brings you to Los Angeles, my dear?”

Taking her hand back, Hela returned to regarding Mazikeen alone, looking at her with both affection and need. It was a warm scene, the reunion between the mother and daughter, but Lucifer felt somehow like he was an accessory to this rather than a focal point. In fact, it almost seemed like Hela was trying to box him out rather than engage, even if only subconsciously. He put a hand to Mazikeen’s waist. If this was going to take place in his club, he had a right to be present.

“Mother. Takehiko has asked me to go on a journey with him, and I wanted to talk to you about it.”

Mazikeen turned to Lucifer. “May we all sit and talk in your booth, dearest?”

“Of course.” Lucifer could not stop the slightly smug smile from rising to his lips, unbidden, directed at Hela who seemed less than pleased that he was being included. Too bad, he thought.

Once they had settled in, Hela took a deep breath, threading her leather-clad fingers together between herself, her mother and Lucifer, who had snaked one hand to Mazikeen’s opposite hip. He would have preferred to have her in his lap but she did not seem too interested at present. “Takehiko wants me to meet his mother, Izanami-no-Mikoto. In her realm, at the House of Windowless Rooms.”

“Why?” Lucifer and Mazikeen exchanged a look as they both asked the question in unison. Lucifer made it a point to avoid talking about his past lovers, especially Izanami. Not that he had anything to hide of course, but the discussion always seemed to make Mazikeen uncomfortable. Withdrawn. And given his distaste for the goddess, well, it was best for both of them if she remained a diminutive elephant in the room.

“Family is important to her. And to Takehiko.”

“To an annoying degree,” Lucifer grumbled. “Have a nice time meeting her. And don’t ask about her other sons. It’s a touchy subject.”

“Why?”

“Lucifer,” Mazikeen warned. 

“Because I killed them.”

“Gods, why?” Hela’s face tightened, and Lucifer couldn’t tell if it was with horror or nerves. 

“It was a long time ago,” Mazikeen tried to interject, soothingly. “A different time, and --”

“They had my wings,” Lucifer said, matter-of-factly. “They challenged me. I was strong. They were weak. You can fill in the blanks.” Hela only stared across the booth at him, her gaze wavering. “And before they fill your head with any more nonsense, let me assure you: Izanami does not care about family. She wants you to fear her. She wants to continue trying to control Takehiko, and now you pose as an obstacle for that. She wants to know just how much of a threat you are.”

Hela swallowed.

“And while I’m sure Takehiko has told you that he is my son from one night of passion with Izanami, he probably has *not* told you that he was supposed to be the tool of my demise. From the moment he clawed his way out of her, Izanami intended for him to kill me.”

Hela’s eyes widened fractionally, breath shuddering as she asked, “And what happened?”

Lucifer shrugged. “He failed. We shaped a truce, where I allowed him dominion over Hell while he allowed me unbothered peace to do my business on Earth as I wished. To be frank, over the past year, I have felt more and more that he got the lion’s share of this arrangement, but...Hell has accepted him as its ruler. Who am I to complain?”

When Hela reached out to her mother, Mazikeen immediately took both her hands in hers. “I do not want to meet her alone. That is why I’m here. I have never crossed into the realm of such a powerful goddess, and given my father’s present state, none of my Asgardian relatives will accompany me.”

Lucifer shifted. He was becoming quite concerned with how this conversation was turning, with what Hela was asking. “Not even your dear uncle Thor? He seemed quite concerned with insinuating himself into your affairs before, why not now?”

“I am afraid of his wrath,” Hela said quietly. “Just as your peace with Takehiko is unpleasant, as is his. He tolerates him for my sake, but I’m afraid that if he were to enter into Izanami’s realm and become provoked, there may be...a conflict.”

“But what can I do, Hela?” Lucifer could see Mazikeen’s fingers squeezing Hela’s so tightly her knuckles went white. “I cannot defend you against a goddess. I do not possess any of Loki’s power…”

“But you are my mother,” she said, desperate, blue eyes shining. “I only want you there so that I can be strong. Your resolve, your pride, it emboldens me. I feel like I can do anything, when I am with you. And without you there, I am afraid I will seem...weak.”

“Hela, I…”

“Please?”

Mazikeen was clearly torn, and her state was impacting Lucifer’s as well. On one hand he wanted to insist that she remain at Ex Lux and help him in preparations for the celebration. And the thought of her meeting with his former lover made him more than simply ‘uncomfortable.’ Izanami was a force. A typhoon. He did not want Mazikeen to be blown over by it. 

“I would never let you face anything alone,” Mazikeen said finally. “As much as it seems like a challenge for me as well, we will both handle it. Together.”

Hela’s smile was so blinding Lucifer cringed. He took his phone out of his pocket, placed several texts and then straightened his suit as he returned his attention to the two. “Okay. I’ve made arrangements to avoid any problems while I’m gone that would endanger the success of the Beltane Ball. I will be happy to escort you both.”

“Thank you, darling,” Mazikeen said, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

“That won’t be necessary.”

Both Lucifer and Mazikeen turned to regard Hela, surprised at her response. “Hela…” Mazikeen started. 

“With all due respect, my Lord Lucifer,” she went on, ignoring the plea in her mother’s voice. “I am quite aware of your turbid past with my fiance. Do you think it best if you are present not only at his side but also by Izanami? It could make things very difficult for us in making a good impression with her…”

Lucifer took a single, long, steady breath. If he said what he wanted to, he would have told her that she was being a stupid child, that he would sooner burn Ex Lux to the ground with everyone in it than let his beloved walk into the maw of that she-beast alone. He would have snarled that although she thought she knew who Takehiko was, she was ignorant to his pride and ulterior motives, and that of the wench who birthed him. But instead, he bared his teeth in a grin that was meant to comfort rather than intimidate. “Don’t be silly. If there is one thing I’ve learned from running the most infamous supernatural business in America, if not the world, it is how to handle things in a professional way without letting my emotions get the best of me. You have nothing to worry about. After all, when this is all said and done, we will be family. Blood is thicker than water and all.”

He could see in his periphery the way Hela’s mouth opened to say more, but he herded Mazikeen out of the booth, slipping his arm into hers. “I take it you have accommodations for the evening?”

“Yes, but --” 

“We shall leave tomorrow at sundown. Promptly. You can tell my son, can’t you?”

“I will speak with him about it. I just don’t think --”

“Splendid. Come, Mazikeen. You will need your rest.”

When Mazikeen moved to embrace her daughter and wish her a good night, Lucifer’s hand remained on her shoulder, and when they parted, he whisked her away to the mirror once more, his wings shielding them from any onlookers. Lucifer was proficient in many things, but when it came to having the last word, he succeeded by force if necessary.

\---

The House of Windowless Rooms. Lucifer hadn’t been there since that one night so long ago, not even after Takehiko was born. On the contrary, as soon as he was old enough, the brat had made a point of finding *him.* And yet, even despite his rocky connection to the realm, there was something truly awe-inspiring about returning to it.

Izanami’s home was an elegant Japanese palace atop black pilings and stone formations. It was at least ten stories, towering like a precarious stack with its curled roofs. The facade itself was gold and green, mingling and beautiful against an endless white sky. Lucifer recalled stories about those who had angered Izanami, who were strapped to the tallest tower, only able to see the nothingness of the space above. It would drive lesser minds mad. 

Izanami had no guards, no terrible beasts to protect her, confident in her own power to quell any assailant. When Lucifer and Mazikeen walked to the top of the stairs - Lucifer in his suit and Mazikeen in her red gown - the doors swung open, and the first figures they saw were Hela and Takehiko. 

Clearly, Lucifer had ruffled the young man’s feathers with his assertive tone the night before. Hela had contacted the club the next day to thank him for his offer but to explain that they would meet him at the House of Windowless Rooms, that Takehiko preferred his own means of ritual travel.

When Hela turned to greet him, Lucifer wondered if perhaps the reason was also because he would have refused to take her, wearing what she was in this moment. A glaringly ridiculous and not to mention distasteful display: a huge, horned helmet that gave her the bearing of some beetle. A cloak that hung large on her, more like a pelt of thick white fur. An emerald dress that appeared to be made of scales, making her slim body appear almost oily.

“Father,” Takehiko intoned, bowing. He was at least mildly more presentable, in a detailed set of royal armor that, while at least formal, still made Lucifer think of cheesy samurai movies. He wore his crown atop neatly coiffed black hair.

“Takehiko. Did you show up early just to make me look bad?”

“Of course not. I simply --”

“He simply inherited his social graces from his mother rather than yourself, Lucifer.” 

The four turned to seek the source of the gossamer voice, and there stood none other than Izanami-no-Mikoto. Her ebony hair was tied on top of her head in a perfect bun, not a single strand out of place. From even a few feet away, Lucifer could see as much as he could feel her amethyst eyes looking into his. Her long, silver kimono shone in the light of the burning lanterns, like it was strung with the tails of shooting stars. It made her skin look darker, the purplish hue of her lips defined and pristine. 

When Izanami approached Takehiko, she reached out to run her hand along the shoulder of his armor in a gesture more like she was brushing off some imperfection than greeting her only living son. “Okaerinasai, musuko.”

“Todaima, okaasama.” 

“And you must be Hela of Niflheim, my future daughter-in-law.” Izanami’s face was refined and elegant even as she bent at her waist. “I am most pleased to welcome you to my home. I trust that your journey was a simple one?”

“Yes,” Hela replied, agreeably, nearly startling when Izanami was suddenly at her side, so quickly it was as if she had appeared there from nothing. She touched the cloak of fur over Hela’s shoulders, murmuring appreciatively. 

“This is from Fenrir, is it not?”

“It is.”

“And that would mean your dress is…”

“Jormungandr’s scales.”

“Did you slay your half-brothers for your attire, my child?”

Hela seemed to pale, shaking her head. “Oh, no, these were...shed.”

“Dear, I was only joking.” Even as she said it, though, Lucifer could read Izanami’s expression like it was a painting in his home that he walked by every day. She was clearly disappointed, had hoped that Hela would regale her with tales of bloodshed.

Izanami turned, gesturing for them to join her, and Hela grabbed Takehiko’s hand, furtively glancing back at Lucifer and Mazikeen. Mazikeen, who appeared to be trying vainly to disappear, had her wings pressed against her arms, and Lucifer gave her a supportive push forward. 

“Mother, may I --”

“Izanami,” Lucifer interrupted, ignoring Takehiko’s baleful glare, shouldering past him. “May I introduce my companion, Mazikeen. Daughter of Lilith, and mother of Hela. You two will be family very soon.”

Izanami turned gracefully, utterly undeterred by her social sleight, of which Lucifer was anything but surprised. “Oh my, forgive me,” she said, remorseless. “I did not see you there. Lucifer does like to take up so much space. How do you do?”

Mazikeen took a tentative step forward, bowing her head respectfully. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Of course.” 

As Mazikeen’s mouth opened and closed, uncertain as to how to respond to such a short remark, Lucifer once more took the reigns of the dialogue. “You have not changed since the last time I saw you, Iza.”

Izanami’s lip curled slightly, then smoothed into a smile. “You seem quite well, Lucifer. Earth’s decadence appears to keep you in quite good health.”

“Not so much that I am not absolutely looking forward to a meal in your home.”

“Yes, we managed a place for you. Imagine my surprise when I heard you would be joining us.”

“I like keeping old friends on their toes.”

She hummed, and then turned once more, leading them to her grand dining hall. Lucifer had seen it briefly before, and it, like the rest of Izanami’s realm, succeeded in catching his eye. She called it, “The Infinity Room,” and despite the five places set at one end, it appeared that the silver table continued on into the infinite white beyond, past the walls, endless, as if it could hold every being in existence. 

When they stepped up to their places - Izanami at the head, Lucifer and Takehiko on one side, Hela and Mazikeen on the other - the chairs moved of their own volition, then tucked them in. Lucifer had not been in favor of this arrangement, but Mazikeen had insisted before they arrived that she be by her daughter’s side. “I love you, Lucifer,” she insisted before they stepped through his portal. “But tonight should not be about us.”

She had said it as if she would have some say. Lucifer knew Izanami better than that.

The first course materialized in front of them: a black broth, dotted with red. It smelled like some mingling of the tide and the sun, pungent, the surface a reflective, glassy sheen. “I hope that this is satisfactory,” Izanami said, glancing at Mazikeen. “Are you able to imbibe liquids with your condition?”

Mazikeen blushed slightly, staring down at her napkin, which she smoothed into her lap. “It’s fine. Thank you,” she said, softly. 

As they began to eat, Izanami turned to Hela with a considerably more interested expression. “How is your father, Hela? Do you visit him often?”

“When I am able to,” she answered, dabbing the corner of her mouth. “My family is very understanding, and they welcome me and allow me free passage to the prison.”

“What a terrible situation. You have my condolences.”

“I thank you,” Hela said, with a polite smile, “but my father knew what his actions may lead to.”

“Be that as it may...to abandon you from such a young, tender age. Leaving you all alone.” There was a pregnant pause before she added, “Without a strong figure in your life.”

Lucifer tried to will Mazikeen to look at him, staring at her meaningfully, but at that moment she seemed lost to him, like she was drowning in the soup bowl before her and he could not save her. 

“Lucifer.” Izanami’s eyes seemed to twinkle a bit, mirthfully, as she changed the direction of her attacks to him. “Have you and Mazikeen been together for quite some time?”

“Yes. Our bond is quite deep, and she holds a very dear part in my life at present.” He licked the back of his spoon. Normally, he would not say such things, but the opportunity to perhaps keep Izanami’s wicked tongue directed at him seemed like a better strategy than letting her slash away at his lover. 

“I am very happy for you both. Sincerely.”

“We appreciate that.”

“How nice, that as the next part of Hela’s life unfolds, she may look to her mother as a source of inspiration.” Lucifer felt a small degree of relief, but it was short-lived as she went on. “A mother’s love is such a powerful thing. Mazikeen, have you remained close with your mother in recent times?”

Mazikeen’s silver spoon clinked just slightly against the edge of her bowl. “My mother and I...drifted apart, some time ago.”

“Oh goodness. Why?”

Lucifer bit his tongue, wished that in that moment he could take control of Mazikeen and give her words to say that would end this conversation, but he could only sit and watch as she quietly replied, “I did not agree with the path she had laid out for me. She had promised my hand to a High Demon in Hell’s Guard, and I...arranged to leave with Loki.”

“What a shame it is, how it all turned out. But you followed your instinct. That is admirable for any woman.” Lucifer glared, and Izanami’s smile was touched with triumph. “Is it not interesting how love changes us all?” 

Mazikeen took Hela’s hand under the table. Lucifer couldn’t tell if her grip was fearful or simply a gesture of fondness. “I try not to focus on the pains of the past,” she said, trying to hold herself up. “Hela is my family. She is my rock.”

“Wonderful,” Izanami said, no sincerity in her tone. “Well said. And are you making any arrangement for future siblings for your only daughter?”

The red in Mazikeen’s face spread to her neck. “I don’t know what you mean…”

“You are about to enter your heat, are you not?” 

“Mother…” Takehiko started, and she lifted three of her fingers in a small wave, as if it was some kind of magic that struck him silent after that, when Lucifer could tell it was only a gesture he knew better than to speak against.

Mazikeen nodded, mutely, not meeting her gaze.

“I mean,” Izanami went on, flicking her wrist, the bowls disappearing like smoke and replaced by plates piled with fish and vegetables. Whole fish, their faces trapped in a gasp of death. “If you are such an important part of Lucifer’s life now, it is only natural that it has been discussed?” 

No one spoke.

“After all,” she said, picking up her metal chopsticks and beginning to pick at the tiniest fleck of the filet. “Lucifer is quite virile. All it took was one night, and lo. A miracle. A brilliant, beautiful son, born in the spring, quiet and kind, such an agreeable baby. As though he knew the world had been waiting for him.”

Normally, Lucifer would have delighted in Takehiko’s soured mood, obvious in how much he wished his mother would stop talking. But…

“Your kind have such a small window of opportunity, and at such an unpleasant cost,” Izanami went on, as though she was positively sympathetic about Mazikeen’s situation. “If only you could enjoy your lovemaking more thoroughly, free of being self conscious of your change.”

“Loki had no issue with it,” Lucifer said, jabbing the tip of his utensil into the fish’s eye. He had grown tired of it staring at him. “Why would I?”

“Right as always.” Izanami seemed patient, her smile cordial. “And you are so much more composed than any Asgardian I have had the pleasure of meeting. I am certain it will be nothing but satisfactory for both of you.” Twirling her finger in the air, Izanami produced glasses of wine at each place, lifting hers and standing. “To new love, and old love, and the unbreakable bond of family,” she toasted.

There were no other cheers to be shared, and the clinking of glasses was like a death knoll on the entire discussion.

When the meal was over and doors closed behind them, leaving the four standing at the top of the stairs to the great palace, Mazikeen’s shoulders visibly dropped. She raised a hand to her temples, rubbing them silently. Lucifer stepped forward, ready to make things right, prepared to take her back to Ex Lux...and was immediately cut off by Hela intercepting him to wrap her mother in a hug, guiding her away from the two angels.

His frown became a scowl when he noticed Takehiko smile, a bit too knowingly for his taste. The renewed image of that same expression so similar on Izanami’s face only fueled his disdain more.

“Come back to Niflheim,” Hela said quietly as she rested her forehead against her mother’s. Standing together, it looked like they were one creature: half decomposed, half perfect. Complimenting one another. “Just for a short while. Get some rest. I know that was trying on you.”

“Maybe that would be for the best,” Mazikeen breathed, though she seemed wholly uncertain.

That was enough.

“Out of the question.” Three sets of eyes directed to Lucifer as he stepped up and pulled Mazikeen into his arms. Hela let her go, though with no small degree of disappointment. She would get over it, he was sure. “Her home is with me.” To Mazikeen, he whispered. “Come back to Ex Lux. Let me take care of you.”

Silently, she nodded.

“My apologies, Lord Lucifer,” Hela said, bowing slightly, demure as well as chastised. “I was only thinking of my mother’s health, and --”

“I get it.” Lucifer’s voice was clipped, and he noticed Hela twitch slightly, like he had raised a hand to her. “But be that as it may, as we get closer to the Beltane Ball, I need Mazikeen by my side. And I know that she needs me just as much.”

Another quiet nod.

Takehiko moved forward to take Hela’s hand, and a moment passed between himself and his father. Lucifer knew that Takehiko could read how he felt - after all, he was in no way hiding his emotions from either of them. He was angry, tired, and he wanted this night to be done. “Do you have anything to say?” he asked, hotly, a clear challenge.

“No, Father.”

“I thought not.” Nodding into the space behind them, the portal opened in a swirling mass of energy, like a whirlpool, and Mazikeen and Lucifer stepped through without another word. 

\---

“Sir, could you sign for this please?”

“Master Lucifer, could you please provide your approval on one of these tapestry colors?”

“These are the cocktails that were crafted for the evening, sir. Your thoughts?”

“The craftsman has stated it could be another day or so on the statuary, my Lord. What should I tell him?”

“My Lord --”

“What?!” Lucifer finally snarled. It had been several long days - no, short, moving too quickly, the work preparing for the Beltane Ball stealing every waking moment of his life - since the affair at the House of Windowless Rooms, and he had not had a single second to even breathe. His wings were in a complete disrepair, in desperate need of preening, and his patience at its breaking point.

Pruflas jumped a bit, his feline face filling with uncertainty. Very much like a cat that had picked the wrong moment to come to its master’s feet. “My apologies,” he ventured, before continuing. “Lady Mazikeen did not show up to my appointment with her for her dress fitting. She did not even reach out to the staff. Has she taken ill?”

“Not to my knowledge. I’ll find out what the problem is. Can you handle speaking with the maintenance staff while I step away?” He ran his hand through his short hair, trying to breathe deeply through his nose. “And can we reschedule the appointment for the morning?”

A pause, followed by a timid, “Yes, my Lord. I shall make it so.”

“Thank you.”

When Lucifer marched through the mirror, Mazikeen was reading *Metamorphosis* again, this time sitting up in the bed, facing away from him. He didn’t realize until he had approached her that her face was covered.

The veil.

He had not seen her wear it since those days at the cottage, when Mazikeen had rebuffed him time and again, refused to let him even look at her, let alone approach her. When he had watched her remove it from the small bag containing her clothes and personal effects, he had wanted so, so badly to have her throw it away. Burn it. Somehow, he knew it was a Chekhov’s gun for their new happy life together.

For the first time in as long as he could remember, he detested being so right.

“Why?” he asked, simply, sitting on the edge of the bed. When he reached out for her bare ankle, she moved it away. “Why?” he repeated.

“My heat...it’s starting very soon now,” she said, putting the book down flat on the bed, bending the spine as she hugged her knees against her chest. 

“I don’t care.”

“You will. And I...I don’t want to disturb you, when you are already so --”

“I don’t care!” He hated how much he was repeating himself, like the simplest statements were not getting through to her. “I love you, Mazikeen. You never have to hide yourself away.”

Mazikeen’s chin fell, and Lucifer could decipher she was looking at the cockroach on the cover of the book, touching it with her fingertips, almost reverently. “She was so beautiful…” she whispered.

“Who?”

“Izanami. She was always beautiful for you. She never had to sit in her own odor, or become a hideous creature…”

“Ugly!” he insisted, and he moved to touch her again, and this time she shook her head. His hands fell like lead weight between them. “She was always ugly, in every way. There isn’t even a comparison!”

“You’re just being kind. You don’t understand what it will be like.”

“Kind?!” Now he was shouting, and he had to stop and lower his voice, though it trembled with hidden force. “In what world have I ever been known for my *kindness?* Mazikeen, I do not say things that I do not mean. And when I said that I am yours and you are mine, those were not just empty epithets. I get what I want. And what I want is you.”

His phone vibrated, and he swatted at it to ignore the call.

“You should get back to work. They need you.”

“They can survive without me. I am here for you.”

As if hearing his words of denial, the phone vibrated again. 

“Please. Do not compromise your business you’ve worked so hard for on my account. It’s…”

Fine? All right?

Pointless?

The vibration started again, in even longer succession, and he grabbed it out of his pocket. Lucifer came so close to crushing the piece of infernal technology that the plastic creaked threateningly. 

“Don’t,” Mazikeen pleaded. “Please. It will only make it worse.”

Lucifer could feel a throbbing in the back of his skull, and he finally rose from the bed, defeated by priorities and Mazikeen’s refusal to let him appease her. The veil waved slightly with each breath she took, and then settled once more as she picked her book back up. 

“This isn’t over,” Lucifer promised. “We can talk more tonight.”

When she didn’t answer, Lucifer stormed out of the room, returning to the stress and pressure to distract him. Upon his return that night, Mazikeen was already beneath the covers, fully clothed and fast asleep. As he kicked off his loafers and jacket, he considered moving the garment that still covered her face, to kiss her awake, to make love to her until she acquiesced that she was, in fact, his entire world, that he would not forsake her for anything. Not Izanami. Not Hela. Not for the Earth itself. 

It would be so easy to tear off. So much so that his fingers froze in the air just as he could feel the thin sheet of silk, separating him like a wall from his beloved on the other side.

But he couldn’t. 

Of all the many terrible and sordid things Lucifer had been able to do in the long millennia of his lifetime, he could not bring himself to force himself on Mazikeen. Not even with the best intentions. To see that wonderful face that had always regarded him with such admiration twist into an expression of betrayal...it would surely be like losing his wings again.

He got into the bed and fell asleep on his back, his arms empty, his heart and head heavy. 

The next morning - a morning that came too soon, after a sleep too burdened, a dreamless abyss - he reached for her and found nothing. Jumping up, there wasn’t even a warmth, an imprint of her body...she had even straightened the sheets, making the bed on her side as if she was never there at all.

All that remained was that horrible book, and a note that peeked beyond its pages. 

\---

It had taken several attempts to get the ritual to focus as it should. Not that Lucifer lacked the power for the jump to Sweden, having used a strand of Mazikeen’s hair as the relic for the portal rather than relying on his private jet as he had that first time. Too slow. Rather, it was because he was so angry his hands refused to stop shaking, like his blood was boiling in his veins.

The note had been simple. An apology. That she had woken up to the start of her heat, to the first signs of her transformation.

That she loved him.

That she didn’t want him to see her like this.

A plea for forgiveness.

When he appeared at the edge of the clearing, the cool air of the woods and mountains beyond chilling his skin, he could immediately sense Mazikeen in the cottage, despite the windows and doors closed and locked. His wings flexed, closing around him protectively as he approached the field of wards. No more of Loki’s tricks. Nothing would keep him away from the demoness. 

But when he reached the barrier, the shock that struck him was worse than it was before. Charred feathers fell to the ground as he reeled back in shock. “Mazikeen!” he roared, in rage as well as pain. “Mazikeen, come out!”

Concentrating his energy, he tried to storm through again and was rebuffed with such power that he actually fell to the ground. “Why?” he growled. “Why?!”

When he rose back up, trying to ignore the white hot pain that had collected in his bones, and took a decisive step forward, he heard a voice from inside cry out. “Lucifer! Don’t! You can’t break through!”

“Why?” he demanded again. A trickle of something wet caught his attention, and he reached up to touch a stream of blood that was coming out of his ear. 

“I asked Hela to re-enforce them. These are not only Loki’s wards, but hers as well, imbued with the power of Niflheim.”

Lucifer stood, shaking his head briefly to clear it, inspecting the wood carvings on the stairs, on the porch. Sure enough, he could make out new ones, different ones, freshly cut. “How…”

“She is --”

“Not her!” Lucifer had given up on tamping down his fury even before he arrived, and now it was even more fearsome. Even with a physical barrier between them, Lucifer could tell that she was afraid, and some part of him was glad. “You! How could you do this?”

There was silence at first, then a shaky, “I told you, I didn’t want you to --”

“And I told *you*!” He opened and closed his wings so quickly that it nearly took him off the ground, shaking off the damage he had sustained. “What did you expect me to do? Stay in Los Angeles? Go on as if nothing was happening? Wait for you to come back at some unknown future date?”

No answer.

“Were you going to come back?!” 

“I…” He didn’t cut her off this time. She simply faded away, like it was the first time such a thought had occurred to her.

“Mazikeen,” he said through a jaw so tight it felt like it would snap in half. “You were going to come back, were you not?”

“I don’t know!” she cried, voice brittle. “I wanted to, but...why would you even want me?!”

That struck Lucifer quiet. Rarely did anyone ask him *why* he wanted something. It was simply in his nature, to desire, to pursue the things that caught his fancy. It would have been like asking a lion why it wants to kill a gazelle. Why a snake wants to strike at a boot that dares come too close. 

“I’m not good enough for you,” she continued. “I can’t...I’m not even on equal footing when it comes to you. I’m not worthy, I’m not enough. How could I ever be?”

“Mazikeen. Come. Out.” His words now were snapping, like sticks popping in a fire. He could feel his unholy aura growing larger, the green grass beneath him browning, the younger trees bending in on themselves. There were no four horsemen; he was all the famine, war, pestilence and death that the world needed to fear.

“Reconcile with Izanami. She is a *goddess.* I am...nothing.”

Izanami’s name was like gasoline splashed on an inferno, and the trail was straight to the door in front of him. With a primal noise of a guttural shriek, he directed all the power inside of him - every ounce of fermented hellfire, every soul he had absorbed over eons of strife, every magic that had taken residence in his damned essence - to the wards, and even if they had been scrawled by Christ himself, they would have cracked.

These, though...these exploded like grenades. 

He was lucky, he realized after the fact, that his love for Mazikeen had kept some degree of insulation around the blast, because other than the smoldering wooden bannister and a deep, black scorch mark in the door, the cottage itself remained untouched. The door, though, seemed to stand, waver slightly, and then collapsed with a crash, and for the first time he had a view inside.

And what a view it was. 

Mazikeen, peeking out at him, one hand clutched to her chest, shaking like a leaf. Mazikeen, in a silk nightgown of pale white, translucent and revealing her breath-taking body beneath. Mazikeen, her normally pale skin replaced by a gorgeous array of scales that made him think of tropical fish, changing colors each time she stepped closer to the entry, even her wings iridescent as they swayed behind her. Mazikeen, the normally exposed sinew and red muscle of the rotting half of her face now skeletal, but not reflecting bleach-white bones but something like spun glass that reflected the light of the sun behind him.

Mazikeen. A living, breathing creature of wonder.

He had to have her. 

Charging up the landing, Lucifer took her immediately in his embrace, waiting for her to push him away, yet she didn’t. “I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I’m sorry, Lucifer, forgive me.”

“Enough of that,” he said roughly. His mouth clashed with hers, deep and wanting, and he could feel his tongue brush against the smooth bone exposed. In his nose, there was a warm, musky smell, and part of him could understand her trepidation. It was something that would be an acquired taste, like pungent meat, like the flesh of foreign fruits that obfuscated their delicious flesh. Appropriate, because already tasting her was driving him mad with lust. “The only words I wish to hear from you are that you want me. Now - especially now, all of you - and always.”

She rolled her head back, gasping as he licked up her neck. This close, it was like each scale was a galaxy of rainbows and crystal. Rough hands balled up the nightgown until he could scratch lines into her rear, dragging her against him, grinding insistently. 

“Say it,” he growled, biting, breathing in her odor, showing her how utterly and completely undeterred he was. “Say you are mine and I will give you endless satisfaction I know this body craves.”

Something in her eyes was darker, and Lucifer couldn’t tell if it was a genuine part of her transformation or her pupils simply blown wide. Her breathing was erratic, incoherent with want, so he took action in a way he was certain would get her attention.

He let her go and stepped away.

“Wait!” she all but screamed, latching onto him, “I am!” A last tear made its way down her cheek, and he licked it away. “I am yours, Lucifer. Yours alone, my love.”

Before he could stop her, Mazikeen slid down his body, her small hands fumbling for his belt, his button, the zipper. She knelt on the wood floor and gazed up at him even as she rubbed her cheek against the hard bulge of his crotch, and he could feel her mouthing the fabric still covering it. Leaning with one hand against the wall, he wound the other in her hair, and even that touch made her groan softly as she freed him. Lucifer prepared himself for her to devour him, but she didn’t. She kissed the tip reverently, her soft lips caressing the curve of his head. “I love you,” she murmured. “I love you, Lucifer.”

“Mazikeen…”

The hot, warm wet of her mouth was like a roaring fire compared to the chill of the air still blowing into the house. She made small noises of enjoyment at the feel of him, the flavor, rolling him about against her tongue. He could sense her relax and he rolled his hips forward, thrusting into her throat. She took him in, swallowing, the tightness making him shudder.

“Mazikeen,” he moaned. “Wait, I…”

The demoness seemed as if she had other plans, bobbing her head, silky, scaly fingers cupping him beneath, rolling him. The pain of the wards completely forgotten, and yet Lucifer could feel his legs becoming liquidy, a rolling force pulling at him, and…

“Stop!” he ordered, pulling her back by her hair. She took a deep breath, staring up at him with wide eyes, a small line of saliva still connecting her to his cock.

He met her on the floor, shoving her back, his hands gripping her wrists and pinning them down, not trusting that in this state of arousal she wouldn’t immediately go back to what she had started. Indeed, she squirmed, like a mermaid pulled from a sea of desire. He claimed her mouth in another battle, one he won as her body accepted his dominance, welcomed it, like she had been made for him. “Believe me, my darling,” he said, voice husky despite his sweet words, “Although I love when you pleasure me so passionately, I will have this body of yours the way *I* please.”

Lucifer’s head jerked back when she gave his top lip a nip, just tight enough to pinch, and he let go of one wrist to touch the spot in surprise. He half suspected that she would scramble away, but she only used the moment of freedom to turn around on her hands and knees. No undergarments, the earthy smell of her warmth immediately caressed his nostrils. 

“Take me,” she gasped, the look in her eyes desperate with fully blossomed, open want. “I’m ready for you.”

Indeed, she was, glistening with arousal, so wet she seemed to be practically dripping. It made Lucifer hunger in a way that consumed him entirely, and he didn’t bother undressing. His power was still so close to the surface that he simply wished his clothing away, and it was so. He grabbed her ankles, dragged her back and impaled her on him. 

She howled, an animal noise, and his thrusts were immediately powerful, slamming into her so hard the floor creaked in protest. Normally, he would have whispered sugary sentiment into her ear, teased her with touch and speech both, but that wasn’t what this was about. “Don’t you dare come before me,” he whispered. “I *will* be satisfied.”

“Yes!” she moaned. “Yes…”

He grabbed hold of her wings, using them as leverage for each deep movement, and her mouth was a silent ‘o,’ the mingling of pleasure and pain bringing her to a new height. When Lucifer climaxed, it felt like the surge of a volcano from inside him, filling her, and she came with such force that she drove back against him, thrashing so wildly that he had to hold her down so she did not hurt herself or him. 

He closed his eyes as he grasped her in his arms, concentrated, and suddenly the wooden floor beneath them changed to a comfortable, familiar mattress. Mazikeen gasped, momentarily surprised, and he rubbed her back as he slipped from her. “Home, my sweet,” he breathed, still trying to steady himself from his powerful orgasm. “We are only home.”

“Yes,” she said, her voice tremulous. “Home…” As she dropped onto the bed, she whined when Lucifer stood up. “Love?”

“Just a moment,” he said, opening a drawer, humming softly to himself. “This heat of yours has made you quite formidable a partner, Mazikeen. And given how unpredictable you seem to be, I think proper precautions need to be taken.”

When Mazikeen’s head lifted uncertainly, he was holding several of his neckties over an arm. The scales on her face turned a beautiful mixed shade as he guessed that she blushed, and he came around behind her, gently but firmly pulling her arms behind her. It was quick work using two of the silk ties to bind her forearms together at the small of her back, beneath her wings. Her pulse was so quick he could tell she was becoming once again deeply aroused. 

Two more, a total of four that tied her ankles to the bedposts.

Then, he had two left, which he held thoughtfully in his palm. “Normally,” he whispered into her ear, pausing to bite the junction of her neck and shoulder. Her body tightened, struggled against the ties, but they held on. “I would consider blindfolding you. Gagging you, perhaps. But I want you to watch in the mirror as I tear through this gorgeous body of yours...and I want to hear every last sound you make, every time you beg for more of me.” He chuckled darkly, looking up and meeting her lustful eyes in their reflection. “And you will beg so sweetly for me, won’t you, Mazikeen?”

She swallowed and nodded. “Yes, my Lord…”

He pushed her down flat while keeping her hips raised, already running his hand once again over her soaked heat. “Good girl.” 

\---

“Is this really necessary, darling?”

“For the last time, yes, my dear. Samhain is coming. I want to give our children an appropriate fright.”

“We couldn’t have done something a little more...lowkey?”

“Does Lucifer, the Former King of Hell, the Prince of Darkness, Rival of the Almighty, and Greatest Supernatural Businessman on the West Coast, seem like the type who would just send baby announcement cards?”

Mazikeen narrowed her eyes at Lucifer even as he leaned in to give her a small peck, but she couldn’t help eventually breaking into a small smile. He knew that she was excited for Hela to learn about the child. She had been practically glowing for months, and Lucifer had called in favors from every herbal witch, birthing sage and wet nurse mystic he could find to make sure she was comfortable every step of the way. 

Five months and not a single day of morning sickness. Not bad if he did say so himself. 

Sensing someone standing behind him, Lucifer turned from where he had been facing Mazikeen sitting on the inside of the booth and saw Takehiko with Hela on his arm. He was wearing his suit - the one Lucifer still thought was a poor imitation of his own - and Hela had on a light dress. The autumn in Los Angeles was still quite warm to people who were not from the area, after all. 

Mazikeen grabbed a napkin off the table. Amelio had brought a small plate of charcuterie for her to nibble on as she needed, and the silverware scattered noisily as she tried to cover her round belly with the red cloth, and it stood out dramatically against her purple empire-waisted top. 

Too little, too late. 

Lucifer gave a savage grin as Takehiko’s normally stoic face contorted with shock, and Hela made a small squeak, lifting her skeletal hand to her mouth. Neither knew what to say, so, as always, Lucifer was prepared. “Surprise!”

“Please tell me this was not the entire reason that you wanted to have us visit, Father,” Takehiko said through teeth he was struggling to keep from grinding together.

“Of course not. What kind of monster do you take me for?” Lucifer waited for Takehiko to let out a small sigh before continuing, counting on his fingers. “I wanted to let you know that *Mazikeen* is with child, that *I* am going to have another child, and that you are both gaining a new sibling!” Hela’s face reddened, and he laughed. “That’s several reasons.”

“Father --”

“And of course to see the look on both your faces.”

“But --”

“And knowing that now certainly your mother will find out, and that will be an endless source of delight in years to come, I assure you. The only thing that will bring me more pleasure is when our child is born, in...February, was it?”

Mazikeen quietly confirmed, even though it was unnecessary. Lucifer knew good and well the due date.

“A baby for Valentine’s Day. Perfect. The month of love and torture. But then, that’s fatherhood for you.”

“Father!” Takehiko all but shouted, cutting him off. He took a moment to compose himself before resuming speaking. “What I am sure you understand that I am quite happy for both of you --”

“Thank you!” Lucifer raised his glass of wine and took a small sip, his own personal celebration well underway.

“Be that as it may...you do not think you could have waited to...consummate your relationship?” The word fell awkwardly from his lips, and Hela’s face turned a bright shade of crimson.

Lucifer let out a bark of laughter. “Consummate? We did that quite a long time ago, son. Many, many, many times before that.”

“Lucifer!” Mazikeen chided, scandalized, giving him a small shove.

“Surely, Father, you can understand that with Hela and I engaged to be wed quite soon, it will be quite difficult both arranging for our marriage celebration and also balancing the birth of your…” He floundered a bit, only having just been made aware that there was a new life about to be born without forethought of the child’s sex.

“We want it to be a surprise,” Lucifer chuckled. “We’ll love it no matter what. All that matters is that it’s happy, healthy and has its mother’s eyes.”

Mazikeen smiled, unable to keep her joy stifled entirely.

“My point is simply...could you not have had some consideration for the current political state? Our marriage will be a joining of the forces of Hell and Asgard, a union between my Underworld and that of my bride’s and --”

“Takehiko.” Lucifer forced his expression into a semblance of sincerity and seriousness, although his hand continued to run over the bulge of Mazikeen’s stomach. “If anyone understands the turbulent world of the gods and their realms, it is me. Believe me.”

Takehiko blinked for a moment, seemingly surprised at his father’s even head, waiting for further clarification.

Which made the next thing he said all the more delectable.

“I can appreciate that you think you’re being upstaged, and that you’re obviously quite bitter that I’m stealing the attention you believe you deserve.”

Any semblance of control on his son’s face melted within an instant. Takehiko’s fists clenched with rage. “And?!”

“And you should be satisfied in knowing that you are absolutely correct.”

As Takehiko sputtered, trying to regain his composure, Lucifer shrugged and turned to kiss Mazikeen deeply, invading her mouth with his tongue, unabashedly resting a hand on one of her larger, firmer breasts that had begun developing alongside the baby inside her. In his peripheral vision, he could see Hela turn and walk towards the door, and Takehiko followed. Whether he intended to bring her back or not was absolutely none of Lucifer’s concern.

He now only had two things he was worried about: the demoness melting into his embrace and the tiny child that would one day be his true heir. The two loves of his immortal life.


End file.
